


Rediscovery

by impalagirl, wilddragonflying



Series: Roleplays [56]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Political Animals
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Drug Use, Drug recovery, F/M, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Political Animals AU, Suicide Attempts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-25
Updated: 2017-04-25
Packaged: 2018-10-23 22:22:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 26,534
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10728459
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/impalagirl/pseuds/impalagirl, https://archiveofourown.org/users/wilddragonflying/pseuds/wilddragonflying
Summary: There's a party tonight at the White House, and Steve Rogers has an invite. He's invited to most of the president's functions, makes the ones he can and misses the ones he can't, but tonight is important: tonight Winifred Barnes has launched her reelection campaign, and Steve's attendance is almost required. So, of course, he's running late.





	Rediscovery

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, just reinforcing here: Bucky is a drug addict, and he attempts to overdose at the very beginning of the fic, and then later on, almost to the end of the of the fic, maybe around 2/3 of the way through. Neither attempt is explicitly written, only the discovery of the attempt and the aftermath.

There's a party tonight at the White House, and Steve Rogers has an invite. He's invited to most of the president's functions, makes the ones he can and misses the ones he can't, but tonight is important: tonight Winifred Barnes has launched her reelection campaign, and Steve's attendance is almost required. So, of course, he's running late.

By the time he gets there the party is in full swing; security waves him through and he wastes little time in finding the president, wishing her well. She thanks him sweetly and, with an indulgent smile, tells him that she last saw her son disappearing in the direction of his bedroom. Neither Steve nor Bucky Barnes have ever been comfortable at this kind of thing without the other close at hand, and Steve gratefully takes her advice and goes in search of his best friend.

He knocks on Bucky's door, but years of close acquaintance have rid Steve of the habit of waiting to be granted admittance. What he sees when he lets himself into the room makes him very, very grateful for that fact.

"Bucky?" Steve asks, heart rate spiking as he rushes to the bed, cursing under his breath as his nursing training takes over; he checks pulse, pupil reaction - thank God he always carries a pen light on him now - and everything else to tell him what the empty prescription bottle suggests. 

Bucky's overdosed. 

Steve grabs his phone, already calling an ambulance, even as he works to keep Bucky alive for just a little bit longer. As soon as he mentions the location the person on the other end of the line - thank fuck it's Sharon tonight - promises discretion; once he hangs up there Steve calls security, asking them to alert the president to the situation. 

"You better not fucking die on me, Barnes," Steve grits out. "I will revive you and kill you myself if you do I swear to God."

For once in his life, Bucky has no answer for him.

* * *

Bucky wakes a few hours later to the sound of a heart monitor and the feeling of a hand holding his own; his eyes are too heavy to open yet, but he squeezes the hand and manages a groan. The hand in his jerks as his sister's voice hisses, "Steve, look! He's awake!"

Steve scrambles over from his chair, breathing a sigh of relief when he sees Becca's right. "Oh thank God," he murmurs, reaching to give Bucky's shoulder a light squeeze. "How are you feeling?"

"Dunno," Bucky slurs. He still can't open his eyes. "What happened?"

"You finished off a bottle of pills that was half-full," Steve answers. "If I hadn't - You'd be dead."

"Oh," Bucky says, sighs really. "Should'a left me." He's asleep again in a matter of seconds.

On the other side of the bed, Becca finally tears her gaze from Bucky's face to give Steve a worried look. "He's really in trouble this time, isn't he?"

Steve nods. "Yeah," he says quietly, emotion making his voice rough. "I think he's been in trouble for a while."

"We need to help him," Becca says, her voice strong though a little desperate. "You'll help him, won't you, Steve?"

"As much as I can," Steve swears.

* * *

Steve's help starts the next day - Bucky's been drifting in and out of sleep, but Steve's just received word that he's awake and actually alert this time. So Steve grabs what - and who - he needs, and heads to Bucky's room. He knocks on the doorframe as a warning, and then pushes the door open. "Bucky?" he calls. "How you feeling?"

"Like shit," Bucky says gamely. "Who's this?"

"This is Sam," Steve says, gesturing to the man in question. 

"Hey there," Sam says, with a little wave that does nothing to ease Bucky's sudden discomfort. "I'm your new sponsor."

"My _sponsor?_ " Bucky demands.

"And your counsellor," Sam adds.

The look Bucky gives Steve conveys at once a sense of deep betrayal and homicidal urges. "What."

"You OD'ed, Bucky," Steve says quietly. "This can't go on any longer. You scared the absolute shit out of me and Becca."

"But not my parents?" Bucky asks, a wry twist to his mouth. He shakes his head. "Look, I'm sorry for scaring you. But don't I have to opt into an NA programme or whatever to get sponsor? I didn't ask for one."

Sam exchanges a look with Steve. "Technically, yes," he says. "But since you attempted suicide, the hospital can force you into a psychiatric facility _without_ your consent if you don't show signs of wanting to get help on your own. It's about your mental health; your safety. They can't let you go off on your own just to try to hurt yourself again."

Steve nods in agreement. "I know you don't want to sign up for the program, but this is a good compromise," he says. "If you don't, the hospital will refer you to a psychiatric facility."

Bucky isn't impressed. "And what's to stop me from agreeing now and ignoring you later?"

"The fact that it won't just be me and Sam checking up on you," Steve answers. 

"Meaning what?"

"Meaning Becca is going to keep an eye on you, and Nat. And Clint, because you know where Nat goes, he goes."

Bucky sighs, and turns his glare on Sam. "Can we have a moment, please?"

"Is that okay?" Sam asks Steve, who nods. “Okay. I’ll just be down the hall.”

As soon as the door closes behind Sam, Bucky's sour expression slips away, to be replaced by distress, almost fear. He reaches for Steve. "Where did you find him?" he asks. "I don't need him, Steve, you know me. I know I fucked up, but I can beat this on my own."

"You could," Steve agrees as he moves closer, perching carefully on the edge of the bed. "But it'd be hard, and not as likely to hold. Having Sam to help you will make your chances of not relapsing a lot better."

"I am sorry," Bucky says, anguished. "I don't wanna die - at least, I don't think I do. I just, I can't..."

"Hey," Steve says quietly, reaching over to take Bucky's hand, squeezing lightly. "You're alive. That's all that matters for right now - but we're concerned about your future. If you stay on the drugs..."

"I don't want to," Bucky says; this he knows for sure. "But I don't know if I want some guy I barely know helping me. Can he be trusted? My mom could lose everything if this gets out."

"I know," Steve says reassuringly. "That's why I chose Sam myself. I've known him since I started college, and if there's anyone more trustworthy, then I don't know them."

"You're sure?" Bucky asks. "He won't hurt Ma's campaign?"

"Positive," Steve promises. "Sam knows how to keep a secret. He'll keep everything you tell him, and anything that happens, in confidence."

Bucky's brow furrows, his gaze drops to the thin blanket over his legs. "And you really think I need him?"

"Yes," Steve says honestly. "You're strong - I'm not contesting that. But you need someone who can be there whenever you need them, and, well - you know what my schedule is like."

"Yeah," Bucky says, "I do." He tries for a smile. "Can't remember the last time I saw you twice in as many days."

But Steve winces, guilty. "Yeah. I - Things have been hectic, but that's no excuse."

"It's okay," Bucky says. "You're allowed to have a life."

"That life is what almost made me too late to save you," Steve says, anguished. 

"Don't do that," Bucky says, squeezing Steve's hand. "You got there, didn't you? Nothing to feel guilty about."

Steve gives Bucky a small smile. "Logically, maybe. But I still feel guilty."

"Well, you're helping me now," Bucky offers. "You found Sam; I'm gonna get some help."

Steve squeezes Bucky's hand again. "Good. I'm gonna do my best to be around as much as I can, okay?"

"Okay," Bucky says, nodding. "Thanks."

Steve smiles, and the two of them lapse into silence for a few moments before Steve asks, "Are you really going to give Sam a shot?"

"I don't have much of a choice, do I?" Bucky asks. "And I do want to get clean, so. Why not?"

"I'm sorry for strong-arming you into this," Steve says, "but thank you. I think Sam will be exactly who you need, and his whole job is being available to you twenty-four/seven."

Bucky's eyebrows raise. "Mom and Dad must be paying him a bucket."

"He's not being paid by them," Steve says. "He's paid by the hospital."

"Oh," Bucky says. "Still."

"He does get paid well," Steve acknowledges. "But that's not why he does this. He struggled with opioids."

"Oh," Bucky says again. His eyes are wide. "That's rough."

Steve nods. "Yeah. You want any more than that, you'll have to ask him, but he's doing this because he knows what addiction can do to people."

"All right," Bucky says. "I'll keep that in mind. And I will let him help."

"Thank you," Steve says sincerely. "It's almost time for the doctor to come in and check on things; you want me to stay?"

"Do you need to be somewhere?" Bucky asks.

"Nothing that can't wait a bit."

"Then yeah," Bucky says. "Okay. Please."

"All right," Steve says with a smile, giving Bucky's hand a squeeze. "Let me get the doctor; I'll be right back."

* * *

Bucky is released from the hospital two days later with a clean bill of health and a brand new sponsor in his contacts. The official reason for his hospital visit was an advanced case of the flu, but with how nosy reporters were these days, who knows how long that story will hold up. 

Steve takes the afternoon off so he can go with Bucky back to the White House, so he's the second one through the doors to Bucky's room, but luckily the only one to witness the way Bucky goes statue-still. "Buck?" he asks, worried. "What's wrong?"

"Someone's been in here," Bucky says. "My dresser's been moved."

"Shit," Steve says, putting Bucky's bag down. "What else? Is anything missing?"

"Yeah," Bucky says, with a harsh laugh. "All my fucking drugs."

"Oh," Steve says, simultaneously relieved, and guilty that he feels relieved someone went through Bucky's possessions to remove his drugs. "Anything else?"

"Nah," Bucky says, finally unfreezing and moving further into the room. He doesn't bother to check as he throws his bag onto the bed and sits down. "There's nothing else in here worth touching."

Steve winces, coming to sit next to Bucky. "I'm sorry," he offers.

Bucky laughs again. "Why?" he asks. "Isn't this what's supposed to happen when an addict comes home?"

"Not without you present," Steve says, frowning. "Doing this was a violation of privacy."

"It's okay," Bucky says, resting his hand on his leg as it starts to bounce. "This way they got everything. I could've directed them away from some stuff if I'd been here."

Steve sighs, resting his own hand atop Bucky's. "Still, they should've let you know."

"Sorry," Bucky murmurs, pressing down until his leg stills. It takes some effort. "Withdrawal is fun."

Steve squeezes Bucky's hand comfortingly. "I'm here."

Bucky sighs, lets his head drop onto Steve's shoulder. "I'm so tired," he whispers.

Steve shifts so he can wrap an arm around Bucky's shoulders, pulling the other man closer. "I know. But we'll get through this, Buck; I promise."

Bucky closes his eyes, barely notices when his leg starts up again. "Okay."

* * *

Sam waits until the next day to visit, and Bucky is grateful. Steve is gone by now, back in work, and Bucky hasn't really seen much of anyone else since he came home, so for all that he's wary Sam is a welcome sight. "Hey," he says, when he lets his new sponsor into his bedroom. "Security didn't give you any trouble, did they?"

"Nah, I showed them the nifty little pass your sister gave me yesterday," Sam says, taking in the room with a low, appreciative whistle. "Damn. You could fit most of my apartment in here."

"I hope you don't mind," Bucky says, a little sheepish. "I'm sure my mom would rather I see you somewhere downstairs, but I'm... I'm really tired, y'know? Turns out it's fucking exhausting work, suicide."

"So I've been told," Sam says with a slight grin as he grabs a chair and flips it around so he can straddle it backwards. "So, your mom's the president? Bet that's weird."

"It is," Bucky agrees. "But she's good at it and it makes her happy, so."

Sam hums thoughtfully. "What about your dad?"

Bucky's expression shutters. "He's good for my mom. Supportive."

Clearly, there's more there, but Sam doesn't push. "Cool. What about your sister? She seemed too nice to be into politics."

Bucky laughs. "She is," he says. "She's involved with a lot of charity work, wants to make a difference in the world." He gives Sam an indulgent look. "But you already know all of this."

"Yeah, but it's nice to hear it from you, personally," Sam says with a shrug. "So. What do you do for fun around here? Or do you just hang around and watch the paint flake off the walls?"

"Well," Bucky says, shrugging, "I used to do a lot of coke."

Sam hums. "Not really my thing. Got any video games?"

"Not that I'm complaining," Bucky says, "but are video games actually included in your job description?"

"My job is to support you," Sam answers. "Pretty broad definition."

Bucky laughs, but heads over to the TV and the PlayStation sitting beneath it. "In that case, I hope you're prepared to get your ass kicked."

Sam grins, following Bucky. "You're on."

* * *

The next morning finds the entire Barnes family gathered together for breakfast for the first time since the ill-fated party. Bucky still doesn't look terribly good, Winifred reflects, but it's better than being dead. "Good morning, dear. How are you feeling?"

"Like crap," Bucky says, with a smile that's almost a smirk. This isn't the first time he's seen his mother since he went into hospital, but it may as well be. "How are you, Ma? Still doing well in the polls, I hope."

Winifred smirks. "Pierce keeps shooting himself in the foot; he keeps that up, and I won't have to campaign at all."

"Anyone would have to be crazy to vote for him," Bucky agrees. "Besides, the country loves you."

"They do, but it won't hurt to remind them of just how awful things could be," Winifred says thoughtfully. 

Bucky laughs. "Got something up your sleeve, Ma?"

The president grins. "You'll just have to find out, hm?"

"Please," Becca sighs. "Can we not talk about politics at breakfast? It's too early."

"I agree," George speaks up. "What have you been up to these past few days, Bucky?"

"Hanging out with my sponsor, mostly," Bucky says. "Saw Steve the other day."

"Oh?" Winifred asks, interested. "Do you like Sam? Steve spoke pretty highly of him."

"He's nice enough," Bucky says. "Knows what he's talking about."

Winifred nods, but George raises an eyebrow. "I suppose that's a requirement in order to be a sponsor; you need to be an ex-druggie."

"He's a lot more than that," Bucky shoots back, frowning. "He's a qualified therapist, and he's using that to help other people who are going through the same thing he did. The fact that he's also an addict isn't important."

"He's a lot more than that," Bucky shoots back, frowning. "He's a qualified therapist, and he's using that to help other people who are going through the same thing he did. The fact that he's also an addict isn't important."

"Hmph. Well, as long as he keeps you out of the news," George mutters, turning to his tablet. 

"Yeah," Bucky says, rolling his eyes. "Thanks, Dad."

* * *

"I'm going crazy!" Bucky whines, two weeks later when Sam makes the mistake of asking how he's doing. "I want to go out! Am I really still a flight risk?"

Sam sighs. "By yourself, yes," he explains. "If you go out with someone, that would probably be okay, but it's generally frowned upon to let you go out alone so soon after an attempted suicide."

"So that's what you're worried about?" Bucky asks. "You don't think I'll try to score?"

Sam shrugs. "Well, yeah; that's always a concern with addicts. Hell, I still worry about myself sometimes, on the really bad days. But if you go out with someone you trust - maybe Steve - then it's not as much of a concern."

"I can't put that on Steve," Bucky says dismissively. "That's a lot of pressure."

Sam rolls his eyes. " _Steve's_ already put that on Steve," he informs Bucky. "Man's determined to be there for you however you need him, no matter what. Short of buying you drugs, or allowing you to buy them, I mean."

Bucky sighs. "You're right," he says. "Okay. I'll call him. If you're sure it's a good idea."

"It won't do anyone any favors for you to be cooped up in here if you're already going stir crazy," Sam points out. 

Bucky laughs. "I haven't spent this much time at home since I was six years old," he says. "As soon as we were old enough to play outside, me and Steve were running wild in the street. And then school and college and..." _Well._ "I don't think my family know what to do with me underfoot so much. I sure as hell don't."

Sam grins. "Sounds like Steve better take you on a tour of the whole damn city, then."

Bucky grins back. "I'll call him," he says again. "We'll see if he can pencil me in."

* * *

Steve's just walked out of the hospital, heading for his car, when his phone rings. He grins when caller ID identifies the caller as Bucky, and hits 'answer.' "Hey, Buck. How you feeling?"

"Pretty good," Bucky says, ignoring the way his foot is tapping nervously against the carpet. "Is this a bad time?"

"Nah, I just got off shift," Steve says. "What's up?"

"Sam was over before," Bucky tells him. "Said I can go out if I have a chaperone. So I was wondering if you wanted to catch a movie or something."

"Yeah!" Steve says excitedly, grinning. "Give me a chance to get some actual clothes on, and I'll pick you up?"

"Great," Bucky says, surprised but pleased. "Call me when you're outside, I'll come meet you."

"All right; take a look at what movies are playing nearby, will you?"

"Already on it," Bucky says. "Romcom? Horror? There's a new Disney movie out."

Steve hums thoughtfully. "I think I'm in the mood for some good old-fashioned Disney. What about you?"

"Sounds good to me." Bucky clicks around on his laptop some more. "There's a showing in a couple of hours?"

"Sounds good," Steve says as he climbs into his car. "I am fucking starving, though; you wanna grab something to eat?"

Bucky snorts. "Always," he says. "Get a move on."

Steve laughs. "All right, I'm going. I'll text you when I'm on my way."

* * *

The movie is good, but the company is better, and as they leave the theatre Bucky is riding a high that for once has nothing to do with a highly addictive substance - unless you count Steve himself. Bucky is choosing not to, though, and instead laughs freely at a dumb joke Steve just made as he pulls out his phone to check the time.

He stops dead right in the doorway, and doesn't even have it in him to apologise when an irritated customer jostles him out of the way. The number is unknown, Bucky deleted it from his contacts weeks ago, but he knows who the message is from all the same.

**just seen u out w ur boyfrend, thought u were dead. not been cheating on me i hope? ;)**

Steve tugs Bucky out of the way of foot traffic before he asks, "What's wrong? You look like someone just walked over your grave."

Bucky doesn't say anything, because he can't; he just hands over the phone.

Steve's frowning as he reads the text, but then he looks up at Bucky, eyes wide. "Who sent this?"

"My dealer," Bucky says. His hands are shaking.

 _Shit._ "Okay," Steve says, reaching over so he can take Bucky's hands in his. "What do you need?"

Bucky looks shocked, but squeezes Steve's hand. "I--" He hesitates, his breathing laboured. "Can we sit somewhere? I need to think."

Steve nods, leading Bucky to a nearby, out of the way bench. "Take as long as you need," he says reassuringly. 

Bucky does just that, and doesn't let go of Steve's hand once. When he's ready, he sighs, and looks up. "Text him back," he says. "Tell him not to contact me again. And then delete the message."

Steve nods, taking the phone back and opening the thread, sending off a text before deleting the messages. "All right," he says, handing the phone back. "It's done. You wanna head back, or?"

"I don't know," Bucky says. The hand that isn't holding Steve's is still shaking, and his left leg is jittering again. "I-- I don't want to be alone."

"Okay," Steve says quietly, laying his other hand on Bucky's shaking knee. "Whatever you want to do, I'll stick with you, okay?"

"What are you doing tonight?" Bucky asks, a hint of desperation in his voice. "Can I come over?"

"Was planning on catching up on some TV shows," Steve answers. "We can grab dinner if you want?"

"Yeah," Bucky agrees, far too quickly to have really heard anything Steve said. "Yeah, that sounds great."

Steve nods, then, getting to his feet and giving Bucky's hand a light tug. "C'mon; I know a Chinese place with a drivethrough, I'll call ahead and have the order waiting at the window."

Bucky manages a weak smile as he gets to his feet. "Thanks, Steve," he says.

Steve squeezes Bucky's hand, giving him a reassuring smile. "No problem. Come on, let's head back to the car."

* * *

By the time they reach Steve's apartment, Bucky's appetite has all but vanished, but he's still determined to eat the lo mein they picked up on the way in. Even so, he hesitates once they get inside, peeling his jacket off and looking around. Steve moved in here over a year ago, but Bucky can't have been inside more than once. "I should probably call home," he says. "Tell them I'm still alive."

"I already texted Becca," Steve says as he carts the food over to the microwave for a quick nuking. "She said to stay as long as you want, she'll let your parents know where you are."

"Wow," Bucky says, flopping down on the sofa. "Okay. Did you... tell her why?"

"Said you'd been going crazy in your room, wanted some time away from it," Steve answers, cursing under his breath and smacking the side of the microwave. "Stupid piece of junk; I really need to get a new one."

Bucky laughs and gets back to his feet. "Let me take a look?"

Steve waves a hand at the offending machinery. "Be my guest; stupid thing won't even turn on sometimes, or cuts out in the middle of cooking."

Bucky approaches the microwave and, keeping his back to Steve, leans over it to start fiddling. "Okay," he says. "See, the thing is, there's a very delicate connection back here and if you don't get everything in the correct orientation, your microwave will not work. It's fairly standard, almost every electrical appliance is the same, but it's very temperamental - easy to get wrong. The long and short of it is--" He straightens up, grins at Steve, and a moment later the microwave flares to life. "You need to plug it in."

Steve stares at Bucky for a moment before swearing violently. "Fine," he sighs. "Get the food warmed up and I'll grab drinks. Soda okay?"

"Soda's great," Bucky says, grinning. "Sounds about the only thing you can manage."

"Oh my god, _fuck_ you," Steve groans, flipping Bucky off for good measure as he heads for the fridge. 

* * *

Despite Bucky's lack of appetite, they manage to eat everything between them, and afterwards Bucky winds up rummaging in the freezer for some ice cream while Steve sets up the TV in the bedroom. They could watch in the living room, of course, but they're both wiped, and for all that he could absolutely afford a new one Steve's couch is too old and too small for two grown men to fall asleep on comfortably. Bucky turns up in the bedroom with a tub of mint choc chip and two spoons, which he hands over as he crawls onto the bed beside Steve. "Okay," he says. "What are we watching?"

"I figured some good old-fashioned explosions would be good," Steve answers. "The Science Channel is running a marathon of _Mythbusters._ "

"Sign me up," Bucky says, grinning, as he gets himself comfortable.

Steve grins back, settling in against Bucky as they share the tub of ice cream; this reminds Steve of their middle school days, when they'd have a sleepover at either of their family's houses, and never bother with someone sleeping in a sleeping bag on the floor, not when the bed was plenty big enough for both of them. "I've missed this," Steve says abruptly, talking over the television. 

"What?" Bucky asks, laughing, but sobers when he glances over and sees Steve's face. "Yeah," he says quietly. "Yeah, me too."

"I'm just sorry it took you nearly dying for us to start getting this back," Steve adds, voice quiet. 

Bucky sighs, tips his head onto Steve's shoulder. "That's not important," he says. "This is."

Steve wraps his free arm around Bucky's shoulders, rearranging the two of them into a more comfortable position. "Yeah. I just - I want you to know I'm not going anywhere."

Bucky smiles, closes his eyes. "I know," he says. He hesitates, but eventually he adds, "I'm not either. You know that, right?"

"Yeah," Steve murmurs. "I know."

* * *

They fall asleep like that not long after, and when Bucky wakes up the next morning it's to find they've barely moved. He smiles, shifts a little, closes his eyes again - but then he feels Steve stir in his arms, and has to see his face. "Hey," he murmurs, whispers really. "Sorry, I didn't mean to stay the night."

Steve barely remembers to turn his head in time so that he's not yawning directly into Bucky's face. "It's fine," he reassures Bucky. "Best night's sleep I've had in a while, honestly."

"Yeah," Bucky says, smiling. "Me too."

Steve absently draws his hand down Bucky's spine and back up as he gathers the courage to speak. "Do you - Maybe we should do it again?"

"Oh," Bucky says, surprised but not displeased. "Yeah. I'd like that."

Steve grins, eyes already half-shut as he drifts back towards sleep. "Good. I missed our sleepovers," he murmurs. 

"Me too," Bucky says, fond. "Go back to sleep."

Steve hums agreeably, arms tightening around Bucky as he lets himself slip back into sleep.

* * *

The sleepovers become a weekly thing; they help keep Bucky from becoming too stir-crazy, and Steve always makes sure his supervisor knows that he can't be on call for those nights. Luckily his supervisor is an understanding woman, and is more than content to give Steve a night where he'd only be called in for a true emergency every week. After about a month and a half of this, Bucky starts going out by himself again - just short trips, but enough that he can start exercising his independence again.

Unfortunately, about two months after Bucky and Steve's first sleepover, Sam receives a call. The caller ID shows Bucky's name, and Sam doesn't hesitate to pick up - but Bucky's ragged breathing on the other end immediately has him concerned. "Bucky?" he asks, already putting down the book he'd been reading in the park. "Hey, you all right?"

"I'm fucked," Bucky hisses. "Sam, I really fucked up this time, I don't know what to do."

"Okay," Sam says, keeping his voice calm as he gets to his feet. "Where are you? What's going on?"

"I don't know," Bucky rasps. "I don't know, I'm close to where I used to... and I just saw someone. I could score right now if I wanted to and I do, Sam, I really fucking want to."

Sam's steps quicken. "All right, just stay on the phone with me, okay? What's the nearest street sign say?"

"Uhh." Bucky finds it, tells him, pushes a hand through his already-wild hair. "What do I do?" he asks desperately. "What do I do?"

"Stay on the phone with me," Sam repeats, at the driver's side of his car now. "Tell me about the last time you and Steve hung out. What did you do?"

"Uhh. We watched TV, some shit, I don't know. We fell asleep together."

Sam feels one eyebrow rise. "You fell asleep together?" he repeats. 

"Yeah, he-- We do that," Bucky says. His voice is already losing that tense, terrified edge to it. "I've never been able to sleep in the White House, and he... I don't know. It's safe, and... warm."

"Yeah?" Sam says encouragingly as he pulls into traffic; luckily Bucky isn't too far away. "That's good, that you feel safe with him."

"Always have," Bucky says. He's sitting on the kerb now, his knee shaking again but his hands still, and he talks without thinking. "Ever since we were kids. It's different now, though. Harder. We're both so busy."

"Steve's trying to change that, though, right?"

"I think so," Bucky says. "But I don't expect him to. I understand."

Sam hums idly, flipping off someone who honked at him. "Well, Steve clearly likes you," he reasons. 

"Of course he does," Bucky says, dismissive. "We're best friends. Doesn't mean he can't have a life."

Sam sighs but doesn't say anything else. "All right, I'm turning onto your street now," he says. "I see you."

Bucky hangs up, gets to his feet as Sam approaches so that he can slip into the passenger seat. "Hey," he says, his gaze in his lap. "Thanks for this."

"No problem," Sam says with a smile, pulling away from the kerb and back into traffic. "How are you feeling now?"

"Better," Bucky says. "I think."

"Good," Sam hums. "Do you want me to take you anywhere specific?"

"Um," Bucky says, "I don't know. Home, I guess."

"The White House?" Sam asks, just to confirm. 

"That is where I live," Bucky says.

"All right," Sam says, making the necessary turn. "Just - call a friend, please? I don't think it'd be good for you to be alone right now."

"I won't be alone," Bucky says dryly. "I'll have my loving family all around me."

Sam sighs. "Someone you actually trust," he qualifies. 

Bucky looks at Sam then. "Someone's observant."

Sam raises an eyebrow, glancing at Bucky. "You haven't really been making much of an effort to dissuade that notion."

"Maybe I'll trust my family," Bucky says loftily, "when my family trusts me." He shakes his head. "There's someone I can call. I'll be fine."

"Okay," Sam says, letting the subject drop. "Just promise me you'll call them as soon as you're inside?"

Bucky pulls the number up on his phone, waves it at Sam. "I'll dial as soon as I get out of the car. Okay?"

Sam nods, satisfied. "Good. We're almost there."

They're both quiet until they pull up as close to the White House as they can get without being mobbed by security, and then Bucky turns to Sam with a small smile. "I'm sorry," he says. "I didn't even ask what I interrupted when I called. I didn't make you run out on your girl or something, did I?"

Sam grins. "Nah, I was just out at the park; haven't had a partner since I came back from overseas, anyway. Too busy screwing my own head on straight and fixing my existing relationships."

"Of course," Bucky says, nodding. "I guess that's smart."

Sam shrugs. "Maybe; but I know myself. I needed to be in a good headspace before I could consider a relationship."

"Do you think you could handle it now?" Bucky asks, curious.

Sam shrugs. "With the right person, maybe," he answers. "But honestly, it's not a priority for me right now."

"Fair enough," Bucky says, still smiling as he pops the door. "Thanks again, Sam. I'll see you soon?"

"I'm just a call or text away," Sam promises. 

"I know," Bucky says. "Take care." As soon as he's out of the car, as promised, he dials Natasha.

Natasha picks up almost immediately. "Good timing," she greets him with, sounding slightly out of breath. "I just finished at the gym. How you doing?"

"Uhh," Bucky says, as security waves him onto the grounds. "Not great. Can you come over?"

"Yeah," Nat says. "Gimme a chance to grab a shower here, and I'll head over."

"Thanks," Bucky says. "See you soon."

"See ya," Natasha says before hanging up. 

* * *

Security recognizes Natasha right away and waves her through with minimal fuss, and she heads for Bucky's room. She knocks on his door, waiting for him to grant permission for her to enter before pushing the door open. "You look like shit," she decides. "Rough day?"

Bucky laughs. "How long have you got?"

"Long as you need," Natasha answers with a smile. "I don't have any plans."

Bucky sighs, gestures for Natasha to sit. "I almost scored tonight," he says. "Had to call Sam."

"Damn," Natasha sighs. "Still, at least you got help."

"Yeah," Bucky agrees. "He said I shouldn't be alone, so..."

Natasha nods understandingly. "Wanna watch some crappy reality tv?"

Bucky smiles, looking tired. "Be my guest."

Natasha sets up the television before pulling Bucky onto the couch with her. "So," she says as _Tanked_ starts up on the screen. "Besides today, how have you been?"

"Good," Bucky says. "Mostly. Sorry I've been AWOL; the only person I've been seeing much of is Steve."

"Oh really?" Natasha asks, interested. "Managed to convince him to take some more time off?"

"Yeah," Bucky says. "I see him at least one night a week now. Think it's mostly out of obligation, though."

Natasha elbows him. "Steve's your friend, moron," she scolds. 

"Yeah," Bucky says, "but he was my friend before. He didn't start moving heaven and earth to spend time with me until after I landed myself in the hospital. I think my family asked him to keep an eye on me."

"Or maybe he realized he was being a shitty friend when you, y'know, _almost died,_ " she counters.

Bucky rolls his eyes. "It's both," he says. "I'd put money on it. And I'm not complaining, obviously. He's my _best friend_. It just is what it is."

"I think you're giving him too little credit," Natasha retorts. "But fine, tell yourself that if it makes you feel better."

"Don't look at me like that," Bucky complains. "Either he's making an effort because my family asked him to, or he's doing it because he feels guilty. Neither option is great."

Natasha sighs, but lets that particular subject drop. She doesn't give up the subject of Steve, however. "So what do you guys do?"

Bucky shrugs. "We hang out. Watch TV, eat take out. That kind of thing."

"Uh huh; does he make you sleep on the couch?"

Bucky blinks at her. "Um, no."

Natasha raises an eyebrow. "The floor?"

"Obviously not, Jesus Christ, Natasha," Bucky huffs. "The bed is huge. We've been best friends since we were five."

Natasha smirks. "It might be huge, but how often do you two wake up cuddling?" she teases. 

Bucky flushes, and pointedly does not mention the amount of times that they fall asleep cuddling, too. "That doesn't mean anything," he says.

"I wasn't saying it does," Natasha replies, too innocently. 

"You're full of shit," Bucky says. "Let's change the subject."

Natasha grins, unrepentant. "Whatever you want, Bucky."

Bucky sticks his tongue out at her. "I didn't ask you here so that you could look at me like that."

"Like what?" Natasha asks, affecting an innocent look. 

"Like you think you know something, and you're all smug about it," Bucky says, petulant.

"If you're talking about me being pretty sure you feel something a bit stronger than 'friendship' for Steve, then you're right on the money."

"What?" Bucky asks, and he actually laughs. "That's ridiculous."

Nat raises an eyebrow. "Is it?"

"Yes," Bucky says. "Christ. We're friends."

"You can be friends and feel more than friendship for him," Nat points out mildly. 

"What part of 'since we were five' are you not hearing?" Bucky asks. "We were practically raised as brothers - it'd be, it'd be _weird_ if I..."

"I don't think it would be," Natasha says quietly. 

"Well, he would," Bucky says, and he sounds somewhat desperate. "Believe me."

"Steve cares about you," Nat says gently. "He wouldn't think any less of you, or let it come between you if he didn't feel the same way."

"That doesn't matter," Bucky says. "I would."

"Why?"

"Because," Bucky says. "Things wouldn't be the same after that. I couldn't watch Steve trying to pretend everything's the same when it isn't. I couldn't make him do that."

Natasha nods. "All right. As long as you're not hiding it from yourself; denial and repression never help."

"It works perfectly well when you're not harassing me about it," Bucky shoots back.

Nat rolls her eyes. "Sure, whatever you need to tell yourself."

* * *

It takes a lot of work and a lot of time, and as with anything to do with any kind of recovery, there are ups and downs, but slowly but surely Bucky gets better. The symptoms of withdrawal get lesser, the temptation to use decreases as well, and Bucky's outlook gets brighter; he starts thinking that maybe he does have a chance after all at beating this. 

Several months later, Steve invites Bucky, Sam, Natasha, and Clint over for a movie night. It's one of the rare nights they're all free, and Steve's determined to enjoy himself; this past week in the ER has been bad. "All right," he announces as soon as everyone's arrived. "We're starting off with _Labyrinth,_ because I am in the mood for some ridiculous goblins and David Bowie."

The significance behind the pointed look Natasha gives Bucky then is not lost on him, but he chooses to ignore it anyway. "Hell yes," he says, grinning. "Although the Boner of Doom might just be enough to scare me back into the closet."

Clint snickers, and even Sam grins, but Steve outright laughs. "Oh my god, that thing scarred me for life the first time I saw it," he agrees. "Bowie's pants are two sizes too small - but good Lord, I don't know any other men who could pull off glitter like that."

"I don't know," Bucky teases, still ignoring Natasha. "I think you'd look good in glitter."

Steve rolls his eyes. "Not as much as they give Bowie," he retorts. "They must have used several buckets in the scene where he comes through the window."

"That is a glittery scene," Bucky concedes, laughing. "But shut up, are we watching this thing or what?"

"We're watching it," Steve grins. "Lemme switch the TV over to the DVD player."

While he's doing that, Bucky makes the mistake of meeting Natasha's gaze, and he instantly flushes. _What?_ he mouths, and then, _Fuck off!_

Nat just raises an eyebrow. _I told you,_ she mouths back; she had, several times over the past several weeks. She's told him that she thinks Steve is at least bisexual, even though Bucky continues to refuse to believe her. _He's not straight._

 _Bullshit!_ Bucky mouthes back, and then flushes even deeper when he realises that Sam is watching him. Thankfully, from where he's sitting, he can't see what Natasha has been saying. "Christ, Steve, while we're still young," he mutters, embarrassed.

"Yeah, yeah, I’ve just about got it," Steve laughs. "All right, everyone ready?"

"Yep," Clint mumbles obnoxiously around a mouthful of popcorn. "Bring on the Boner of Doom."

Steve grins, swiping the other bowl from the coffee table before settling in next to Bucky, close enough that their thighs touch. "All right, let's get it started, then."

Bucky doesn't mean for it to happen, especially not with Natasha watching them like a hawk, but at some point during the movie he leans over Steve to get the popcorn from Clint, Steve lifts his arm to accommodate him, and the next thing he knows, they're _cuddling_. No one else seems to notice, although he knows better than to presume Clint is oblivious, but he can practically feel Natasha's gaze sharpening. Bucky doesn't look at her, can't bring himself to dare, but he's willing to bet she hasn't glanced at the TV in at least twenty minutes by the time the movie ends. "Well," he says abruptly, a little too loud even over David Bowie's lilting voice as he sings through the closing credits, "that was just as fantastic and just as horrifying as it was when I was a kid. Brain bleach, anyone?"

"I dunno, I've always like Bowie's hair in this; don't want to forget that," Steve says teasingly, ruffling Bucky's hair. 

Bucky laughs and tries to subtly lean away, for his own sanity's sake if nothing else. "Well, I'm at least gonna need more popcorn if we're putting in another movie," he says with a grin.

"It's only nine o'clock," Sam agrees, a glint in his eyes as he gets to his feet. "Don't bother getting up; I'll make the popcorn."

"Don't you fucking burn mine, Wilson!" Steve says sharply, glaring at Sam with narrowed eyes. 

Bucky laughs, gives Steve a push. "Go watch him if you're that worried about it."

Steve grumbles but gets to his feet, and as soon as he's gone Natasha slides into his vacated seat. "I told you!" she hisses. 

"Stop it," Bucky hisses right back. "He'll hear you!"

"Popcorn's loud," Nat says dismissively. "Anyway, _I told you,_ Barnes, that Steve isn't straight. Do you see it now?"

Bucky opens his mouth to argue, but then he hesitates, glancing back toward the kitchen. "I-- maybe," he concedes. "But that still doesn't mean--"

Natasha levels him with a Look. "It means, he wouldn't be uncomfortable because it's a queer friend attracted to the straight one. Hell, judging by what just happened, I'd say he's attracted to you, too."

"Nat, please," Bucky begs. "I can't risk it."

Natasha's quiet for a moment, then she reaches out and puts a hand on Bucky's knee, squeezing carefully. "Just - think about it, all right?" she asks softly. "You two are already so good for each other, and I think you could make each other even happier."

Bucky doesn't want to admit it, but Natasha is starting to make a lot of sense. "I will," he says. "I'll think about it, I promise."

Natasha nods, satisfied with that, and returns to her spot next to Clint as Sam and Steve return with more popcorn; Steve hands his off to Bucky before putting in the next DVD, _Inception._ Once that's done, Steve settles back in beside Bucky, just as close as before, and returns his arm to its previous position as he settles the popcorn bowl where they can both reach it.

Bucky makes a pleased sound and covers it up by reacting for the popcorn, but he finds himself leaning into Steve's side all the same. He likes it, it's warm and safe here against Steve, and if the grin Steve gives him is anything to go by, Steve likes it, too. Maybe he should say something after all.

* * *

Of course, the next day everything goes to shit. Bucky checks his phone as soon as he wakes up, hoping to ask Steve if he wants to get together after work, and sees that he's had eighteen missed calls in the last twenty minutes, ten of which are from Steve himself. One frantic text from his mother urges him not to look at the news, so of course that's the first thing he does, and-- oh. Oh shit.

Bucky's stint in the hospital has been leaked, and it's all over the papers, the news, social media - any available platform that people have to talk about this. A quick scan of an article claiming to have the 'full story' tells him they haven't released anything about the drugs, but still, the whole world knows he tried to kill himself.

Bucky doesn't even think; he jumps out of bed, throws on some clothes, a hat and a pair of sunglasses, and takes off. The press is swamping the White House, but he's done this enough times to know how to get out undetected. As soon as he's in the clear, he opens up the only text on his phone that he cares about, the first one he received once the news broke, and hits dial.

**u sure u want me to leave u alone?**

* * *

Steve keeps trying to call Bucky, getting increasingly worried until Bucky finally answers his phone. "Bucky! Oh thank God, where are you? Are you okay?"

"Yeah, Steve, yeah, I'm fine," Bucky says, with a lazy grin for the man sitting across from him. "I saw the news. I couldn't stay in the House, so I took off, but I'm fine. Shouldn't you be in work?"

Steve runs a hand through his hair in agitation. "Yeah, I'm at the hospital, there's a fuck ton of press here, but I was worried about you. You're somewhere safe, right?"

"Yeah," Bucky says. "I'm with a friend. I can meet you later if you want?"

Part of Steve wants to say no, to demand Bucky meets up with him immediately, but he throttles it back. "Yeah, that's fine," he says instead. "My place at two?"

"What are the odds that your place is going to be teeming with reporters?" Bucky asks.

Steve curses under his breath. "Too high," he admits. "What about Clint's place? He's out for the day with Nat."

Bucky giggles. "Are you suggesting we break in, Mr Rogers?"

Steve frowns at Bucky's tone. "No," he says slowly, "I have a spare key."

"Oh," Bucky says, "that's boring. Okay then. Clint's at two."

"See you then," Steve says, and then they hang up. 

Brock raises an eyebrow. "Boyfriend again?"

"He's not my boyfriend," Bucky grouses, leaning over the line that's been waiting for him on the coffee table. "I thought I told you not to talk about him."

Brock snickers. "C'mon, the guy called you a dozen fuckin' times. How is he _not_ your boyfriend?"

Bucky straightens up, rubs at his nose. "He's my friend," he says. "My life just got set on fire; he's worried."

"Right," Brock snorts, bending over his own line. He's occupied with that for a few moments, and when he straightens up, he looks at Bucky with a raised eyebrow. "So. You're gonna abandon me to go run off and 'reassure' him?"

"No," Bucky says, slouching back onto the couch. "But I will abandon you if you ruin my buzz."

Brock rolls his eyes. "All right, drama queen."

"Suck my dick," Bucky shoots back, and then hesitates. "Actually, that's not a bad idea."

Brock smirks. "Oh yeah?" he asks. "You after a bit more fun?"

Bucky shrugs, spreads his legs lazily. His jeans are already feeling a little tighter than they were a moment ago. "You got something better to do?"

"Not really," Brock answers, getting to his feet and sauntering over. "You gonna make me do all the work, here?"

Bucky laughs, and reaches for his belt. "I guess we'll see."

* * *

Steve gets to Clint's place first, and after he takes Lucky, Clint's rescued three-legged dog, out to do his business, Bucky still hasn't shown up. Steve resolves to wait half an hour, then he's going out hunting for Bucky - but he doesn't have to do that, because Bucky shows up at twenty minutes past two. However, Steve's not exactly reassured by Bucky's appearance. "Are you alright?" he asks, a bit suspiciously. 

"Yeah," Bucky says, grinning. "Yeah, I'm fine, Stevie. Christ, you look worse than I feel. Bad day?"

"You disappeared for most of it after someone leaked your hospital stay," Steve says flatly. "Do you - Christ, Bucky. Are you _high?_ "

"What?" Bucky asks, laughing. "Stevie, no. No. I told you I was with a friend, didn't I?"

Steve's eyes narrow further. "That part I don't doubt," he says. "Look at you, Buck - you're fidgeting."

"So I'm a little wired," Bucky says. "It doesn't mean I'm on drugs. It means I'm on edge."

"Bucky," Steve says quietly, "please don't lie to me."

"Steve," Bucky says, earnest, just as quiet. "I swear to you. I'm not using." He takes a breath, tries to think though his heart and mind are racing. "I-- I wanted to. I came _this close_ , but then I realised how stupid that would be, to throw away all the progress I've made, and to--" He falters. "To disappoint you, after we're finally getting back to where we were before. So I went to see a friend, and we... found other ways to forget what's happening."

Steve isn't entirely certain that he buys Bucky's story, but he's distracted by the jealousy that flares in his chest at Bucky's last sentence. That Bucky went to _someone else_ instead of calling Steve first... Hell, Fury would've more than understood if Steve asked to take the day off to spend it with Bucky, and Steve knows he's told Bucky that before. For now, however, Steve beats the jealousy back; that's not what's important right now. "All right," he says, nodding. "I'm - sorry, if I interrupted something earlier."

"You didn't," Bucky says, "honestly," and it's the first true thing that's come out of Bucky's mouth today. "Look, can we just hang out? My mom's gonna call soon and I don't want to think about it."

Steve sighs, but nods. "All right. Let's go raid Clint's pantry and see what he's got on Netflix?"

Bucky grins. "Sounds good to me."

* * *

Bucky thinks about telling Sam about his slip, but he's scared that it'll get back to Steve, and honestly, he's fine. It was one slip. It won't happen again. He doesn't even have Brock's number; he deleted the texts before he saw Steve that day without saving it to his phone. He knows it was the right move, but he starts to regret it after spending five days cooped up in the White House while his entire family _and_ Steve panic about damage control.

And then Brock texts him again.

* * *

"I'm bored," Bucky complains later that same day. He's back on Brock's couch, his head tipped back and his eyes closed while his mind spins. "It's like being on suicide watch again. The whole world thinks I'm made of glass, my family along with it. And Steve..." He laughs harshly. "Steve's _convinced_ I'm gonna start using again."

"To be fair, you have," Brock points out, doing the line he'd set out after Bucky had taken his. 

Bucky laughs. "I know," he says. "I don't know, I just need something to distract me. And them. To prove to 'em that I can take care of myself, y'know? That I'm not about to slit my wrists or whatever."

Brock hums thoughtfully. "Well, what about a business?" he says, almost too casually. 

"What do you mean, a business?" Bucky asks.

Brock sits forward. "There's a bar, just gone bankrupt, right on the edge of the shit part of town and the good part of town," he explains. "It's for sale by the owner."

Bucky laughs. "For how much?" he asks. "All my money comes from my parents. They don't trust me around their wallets, let alone their bank accounts."

"Guy's selling it for three quarters of a million, but I talked to him and he's willing to take six-fifty for it. You and I could go half-and-half, get some legit money going."

"You want to buy into it with me?" Bucky asks. "You must think I'm nuts."

"Look, I'm willing to front more, we can work out something for you to pay me back later until we're half and half," Brock says. "I need at least a hundred grand from you, though."

"No," Bucky says. "I don't have that kind of money either, and even if I did, I want my family to _trust_ me. The last thing I need is to open a bar with a drug dealer."

"Oh, come on - it's a _business_ ; it proves responsibility and all that shit."

"Until the cops come flooding in to shut us down and _arrest us_ because you're running drugs through the place," Bucky snaps.

"Did you not hear the part about getting some legitimate money going?" Brock snaps back. "I wouldn't run my shit through the bar, man."

"Yeah right," Bucky says. "You can't expect me to believe that."

Brock sighs. "Look, you probably won't believe this, but I'm trying to cut back on that stuff. Cops have been cracking on down on it a lot harder, it's just not as easy as it used to be. Lot more risk. I'm dialing back, but need something more legitimate to put on the books for the government."

"And you want it to be this bar?" Bucky asks. "With me?"

"Well, yeah, otherwise I wouldn't be asking. I'm thinking about getting out of selling, period. But I need another source of income, you know what the economy's like."

Bucky tries not to think about what he'll do if Brock stops selling altogether. "Okay," he says. "But I'm not going into this in debt to you. Find someone else who'll back it, and I'm in."

Brock rolls his eyes, but nods. "Fine. I'll ask around a couple more people, see where that gets me, and I'll get back to you."

"You do that," Bucky says, smiling. "But cut me another line first."

* * *

"So," Bucky says to his sister a few days later. "How would you feel about me owning a bar?"

Becca blinks, then frowns thoughtfully. "You? I... don't know. I've certainly never given it much thought."

"Well, think about it," Bucky says. "If I can get the money together it might well happen."

Becca nods slowly. "I think you'd be good at it," she says. "You've always been a people person."

Bucky laughs. "You think Mom and Dad would go for it?"

"They might," Becca says. "Are you going into it solo?"

"If all goes to plan, I'd have two other partners," Bucky says. "The guy wants seven-fifty for it; even I'm not that optimistic."

"So how much do you need to get in on this?"

"As things stand right now, a hundred grand," Bucky says. "I know, it's a lot, but it's a good investment; I'll make it back in no time."

Becca nods slowly. "I'll back you up when you present it to Mom and Dad," she promises. 

Bucky grins. "Thanks, Becks," he says. "I really appreciate it."

Becca returns Bucky's smile with one of her own. "Anytime, Buck; I think this would be good for you."

"That's what I think, too!" Bucky agrees. "A fresh start, y'know? Break away from the past."

"Give you something to focus on, too, when the cravings get bad," Becca agrees. 

"Yeah," Bucky says, swallowing down the sudden discomfort. He grins. "I can't wait to tell Steve."

"He'll be really excited for you," Becca agrees. "You gonna talk to Mom and Dad first, though?"

"Yeah," Bucky says, "but I'm sure they'll say yes."

* * *

"Absolutely not," Winifred snaps. "You can't be seriously thinking that we'd fork over a hundred _thousand_ dollars - _minimum!_ \- for you to buy a bar."

Bucky stares, stricken. "But Mom--"

"No. Bucky, we love you, we support you, but this is ridiculous. You've just beaten a drug addiction, but now you want to spend all your time running a bar? I don't think so."

"But you haven't even listened to--"

The look Winifred gives him cuts him right off. "George," she says. "You tell him."

George, who's had a thoughtful look on his face, turns to his daughter. "I'm assuming your brother came to you with this, first?"

Becca nods. "Yes - and I think it's a good idea. Bucky needs something to do besides sit around this giant building with his thumbs up his ass, and while a bar wouldn't have been my first choice, it's what he wants to do."

George hums, then nods. "I think it might work," he says, his tone careful as he repeats, " _Might._ You said there are other investors?"

"Yeah," Bucky says. "A friend of mine who wants to strike out on his own, like me, and he's trying to bring someone else in, too."

George takes that in, then glances at his wife. "Even a hundred thousand won't make or break us," he points out. "Becca has a point. Idle hands are the devil's tools, after all."

Winifred sighs. "It isn't about the money," she says, tapping the first sheet of the proposal Bucky laid out for them. "You know where this is, George. The type of people who would go to this bar are not the type of people we want our _recently-recovered son_ to be around."

"We won't allow any drugs in there, Mom," Bucky insists, but Winifred just shakes her head.

"Sweetheart, you won't be able to stop it. And once you've noticed that it's happening, you might not want to."

George drums his fingers against his armrest. "Now, I'm only suggesting this because Bucky does need something to do, even though I don't exactly approve of a bar, either, but... We trust Steve and Natasha, Win. I don't know a soul alive who isn't at least a little scared of that redhead. What if they drop in every so often and look around?"

"I could go for that," Bucky agrees, but Winifred still isn't convinced.

"Steve will just give him whatever he wants," she says. "Don't look at me like that, James, you know he will."

"But Nat won't," Becca interjects. 

Winifred purses her lips, but something around her eyes softens. "Who's the third investor?" she asks.

"I-- I don't know," Bucky admits. Winifred's eyes narrow. "But Brock is great, really great! He knows I've had some difficulties and he's really supportive. He knows what he's doing, I swear."

"Let's find out who this third investor is," George suggests. "Then decide."

"I also want to meet both of them," Winifred says. "I've never heard of this Brock who you say is such a great friend."

"All right," Bucky says. "All right, Mom, I promise."

"Once we've met them, then we'll decide for sure," George says firmly. 

"Thank you," Bucky says. "Really, this means a lot to me."

* * *

"Hey, Bucky!" Brock calls, waving Bucky over from the doorway of the cafe. "Glad you could make it. Tony should be joining us any minute."

"Tony who?" Bucky asks when he reaches Brock. "Do I know this guy?"

"You probably know of him," Brock says, nodding towards the door. "He's coming in now."

Bucky looks, and his jaw drops. "You're kidding."

"Nope," Brock says as Tony Stark makes his way towards them, stopping to greet the barista and order a coffee. "I used to be his supplier," he explains, voice quiet. "He got clean, and when I told him I was looking to get out of selling and said you were looking to get something of your own started after your hospital stay, he offered to buy in for most of it."

"But-- _why?_ " is all Bucky manages to gasp before Tony Stark is sitting down at their table.

"Well," he says, grinning, "this isn't something you see every day. A reforming criminal and the son of the President of the United States."

"Um," Bucky says eloquently, more than a little starstruck. "Yeah. Hi."

Stark laughs. "Hey," he says. "Let's talk business, shall we? We can take selfies later."

Brock grins. "Like I said, the guy who currently owns the bar is willing to part with it for six hundred and fifty grand, and Bucky's said that his parents are willing to loan him a hundred grand if they meet us and like us."

"And how much are you putting forward?" Stark asks.

"I can put in up to three hundred," Brock answers. 

"Which makes you the majority owner," Stark says, thoughtful. "Keep talking."

"Only as far as the property goes," Brock answers. "The building's sound, good construction, but needs a little renovation. The guy went too much for club, not bar, was barely making enough to break even. I'm not looking for leverage, just a new business, so I'm fine with drawing up a contract or whatever you want to make the actual business an equal three-way."

"Really?" Bucky asks, surprised.

Brock nods. "I'm not hurting for money," he points out. "But I'm not the kind who just retires and sits around with his thumbs up his ass, either. And I've already been sole proprietor of a business, I don't want to do that again."

"Well," Stark says, "given that you're the only one of us without other, legitimate commitments - no offence - you would be the main man on the ground. Would you be okay with that?"

Brock shrugs. "Don't leave me with all the work, do your bit, and that's fine."

"I'll be able to help out a lot," Bucky offers. "My mom's the president, but I don't have anything to do with that most of the time. As long as I'm not embarrassing her or--" He winces; "--trying to kill myself, I'm pretty much left to my own devices."

Brock nods, satisfied with that. "What about you, Stark?"

"I'll be around as much as I can," Stark says, "but like I said, I'm a busy guy." He glances at Bucky. "And my sponsor doesn't seem to think I should be around addictive substances overmuch."

Brock shrugs. "Works for me. Just gonna be alcohol we'll be selling."

Tony gives him a terse smile. "Well, alcohol is part of my problem," he says. "But that doesn't mean I'd be opposed to coming up with some sciencey cocktails for the menu."

"How does that work?" Bucky asks.

"A working environment is different," Stark says. "I see that kind of shit in a lab and I'm just like, 'Ooh, what can I do with it?' I see it in a club and I'm like, 'What can it do to me?'

Brock shrugs. "Whatever works for you," he says. 

"So do we have an agreement?" Stark asks.

Bucky shrugs. "I don't see why not."

Brock nods. "Works for me. So, Bucky, when do your parents want to meet?"

"Soon as," Bucky says. "They're not gonna cough up the cash until they've met you."

"Fair enough," Brock concedes. "All right, I'll check my schedule, let you know what works. You'll do the same, right, Tony?"

"Of course," Tony says. "I'll be in touch."

* * *

Bucky's parents are understandably surprised to find out that the third investor is Tony Stark, and while they're clearly a bit suspicious of Brock, they eventually agree to give Bucky the capital to pay his part. The next day, Bucky meets up with Sam and Steve at Steve's apartment, and Sam's the first one to speak. "All right, Barnes - what's so important that we had to meet right away?" His tone is amused and he's smiling, but curiosity is all but eating him alive.

"Well," Bucky says, unable to contain his grin. "I've managed to borrow some money from my parents, and I'm going to be opening a bar!"

"Really?" Steve asks, intrigued. "By yourself?"

"No," Bucky admits. "My folks wouldn't trust me with that much cash. But I have two great partners who are putting up most of the money, and yeah, I'm really excited about it."

"That's great," Steve says excitedly. "Where is it?"

Bucky tells them, and winces at the expression on Sam's face. "I know," he says, "I _know_ , but it's okay. The other partners are in recovery too, and we won't have any drugs in the bar."

"It's not exactly the drugs I'm worried about," Sam says gently. "Can you trust yourself around alcohol?"

"Alcohol was never my problem," Bucky points out. "I can still drink."

"But we don't want it _becoming_ your problem," Sam explains. 

"Well," Bucky says, "I hear there's not much time for getting wasted when you're the one behind the bar. I should be fine."

Sam nods, conceding the point. "Well, when are you guys planning on opening? he asks curiously. 

"We need to do some renovations, but hopefully in a couple of months," Bucky answers. "I'll probably help with that myself. It's something to keep me busy, y'know?"

Sam and Steve both nod. "Let us know if you need any help," Steve says, but he's still grinning. "I'm really excited for you, Bucky."

"Thank you," Bucky says, beaming. "It means a lot to have your support."

"You've got it," Sam promises. 

* * *

Steve ends up giving his support in a more literal way - a couple of weeks later, Bucky drags him to the in-progress bar, saying he, Tony, and Brock need some extra muscle. It's Steve's day off, and he never minds spending it with Bucky, but he's also got an ulterior motive: he wants to meet Bucky's business partners for himself. 

Everybody and their mother knows about Stark's struggle with drugs, but he's supposedly been clean for years now. This Brock person, on the other hand... Well, Steve has a sneaking suspicion about who he is, but he's determined to give the man at least one chance, since he's Bucky's business partner. "So," Steve says as he takes in the chaos of the construction. "What do you need me to lift again?"

"It's all over there by the bar," Bucky says, waving. "Tony, hey, I want you to meet my friend Steve."

Tony wanders over to offer Steve his hand. "You could have told me you were bringing a Greek god to help out, Barnes," he says with a charming smile. "I would've taken the day off."

Steve's ears go pink, but he grins. "You wouldn't be saying that if you'd seen me in middle school," he joked. "Bucky wouldn't have let me near this place."

"The dust would have wreaked havoc with your asthma," Bucky agrees, with a sharp look for Tony that he hopes neither of them notice. He smiles. "But, lucky for me, you grew out of all that, so I can put you to work."

"Yeah, yeah," Steve says, a good-natured grin on his face as he waves a hand at Bucky. "Just tell me what needs moving and where to."

"Tony can get you set up," Bucky says, already moving. "Is Brock around?"

"Uhh, yeah," Tony says. "He's in the back, doing... paperwork. You sure you wanna disturb him?"

Bucky doesn't even glance back. "Yeah, I just need to ask him something. I won't be a sec."

Steve watches Bucky go with a slight frown before he turns back to Tony. "Do they regularly meet up in the back?"

"They're business partners," Tony says, frowning. "They meet up wherever they need to do business. We all do."

Steve nods, but doesn't say anything about the half-formed suspicions floating through his mind. "All right. Well, let's get to work, then. You got any blueprints?"

"Uhh, yeah," Tony says. "They should be behind the bar. Do you need anything else?"

"Nah, I'll let you know if I come up with anything," Steve says, waving a hand. "Good meeting you."

"Oh yeah, you too."

Tony leaves Steve to it after that, but Bucky returns a few minutes later with a stranger in tow. "Hey," he says. "Sorry about that, we had a couple of contractors cancel on us last minute and I wanted to make sure we hadn't been charged. Hence why you're here." He grins. "This is Brock, by the way, our third partner."

Steve keeps the board he'd been carrying on his shoulder as he extends a hand. "Nice to meet you," he says politely. 

"And you," Brock says. "Thanks for helping us out like this, we'd be screwed without it."

Steve inclines his head. "Anything to help Bucky."

Brock smiles. "Noted," he says. "Well, I'll be in the back. I need to track down some more contractors so that we don't have to delay the opening night."

"Don't let me keep you," Steve agrees, watching him go; he's not entirely certain he likes the man. 

"Jeez," Bucky says. "What's up with you?"

Steve shrugs. "I just don't like him," he says - not a lie, but certainly not the whole truth. 

Bucky shrugs. "Well okay," he says. "I know he's not for everyone. But he's busy today, so we can ignore him."

"Right," Steve says evenly. "You gonna carry some of your weight around here, or make me do it all?"

Bucky grins. "I guess I can give you a hand."

* * *

True to Bucky's word, they don't see Brock again for several hours, but when he finally reemerges from the back office he goes straight to Bucky, claps him on the shoulder. "If I have to make one more phone call I'm going to lose my mind," he says cheerfully. "The contractors are tomorrow's problem. Who wants a drink?"

"If by 'get a drink' you mean 'get the hell out of here,' then I'm in," Tony answers immediately. "I would _kill_ for a good Italian soda right now. You in, Rogers?"

Steve hesitates. "I was gonna try to catch up on laundry," he starts hesitantly, but is interrupted by Tony. 

"It'll be there in the morning, or if you're stupidly responsible, later tonight," he reasons. "C'mon, three's a crowd but four's a party, right?"

"Right," Brock agrees, grinning. His hand is still on Bucky's shoulder. "You in, Barnes?"

Bucky starts. "Uhh. I guess."

"Great," Tony says enthusiastically. "We're going to this little place I know, has great alcohol and Italian sodas. My treat."

Well, Steve wasn't going to turn down Tony Stark offering to buy him some drinks. "All right. I'm in."

"Are you sure?" Bucky asks Steve as they pause to lock up the bar. Tony and Brock carry on up ahead without them. "I know I said we could avoid Brock. We can go our own way if you want?"

"It's fine," Steve says dismissively. "It's just for a little bit."

Bucky shrugs, pockets his keys. "Okay," he says. They start walking. "Brock's actually all right, once you get to know him. He's helped me with a lot of stuff."

Steve makes a non-committal noise in the back of his throat. "Right. How did you two meet?"

"Oh, at a club," Bucky answers. It's not even a lie. "A few years back."

When Steve was so caught up in his classes and internship that he hadn't even had time to see his own reflection, let alone his friends. "Oh," he says, a bit lamely. "So, did you - y'know - from the start?"

"Oh." Bucky's eyes widen. "Uh, yeah. Not-- not anymore, though."

Steve's... not entirely sure how to feel about the fact that Bucky's had a fuckbuddy for years and never thought to tell him - though that's stupid, he realizes. Bucky doesn't need to tell him about every little thing in his life. "Oh. Well, uh - " 

He's saved from having to respond by Tony. "Hey, you two need to hurry your asses up, or you're paying for your own shit!"

Bucky covers his discomfort with a grin. "Come on," he says. "If he buys us one, the likelihood is he'll buy them all."

Steve laughs. "That's what I'm banking on."

* * *

Tony may not be comfortable working in the bar a lot, but he's apparently comfortable enough to pay for Bucky and the others to get smashed while sipping daintily at a lime and soda at a bar down the street. Bucky isn't complaining, except that he kind of is - about the way Tony makes sure to sit between him and Steve in the booth so that he can _flirt_ with Steve all night. After the first half hour of trying to get Steve's attention from _around_ Tony, Bucky gives in and talks to Brock for the rest of the night, downing far more drinks than he can count in the process.

Eventually Brock realises Bucky's discomfort and takes him off to the men's room to do a line, and they make out a little against the sinks because Bucky is frustrated and jealous and he _can_. By the time they get back to the table, though, Bucky knows that he's done. He doesn't want to be here anymore. "Steve," he says loudly, pointedly. "I think I'm gonna get out of here. Okay?"

"Oh, yeah, sure, do you - " Steve looks up from where he and Tony had been debating Marvel vs DC, and the offer to walk Bucky home or to a cab dies on his tongue when he sees Brock standing behind Bucky - and the way Bucky's hair is messed up. "Uh. Sorry, do you want me to stop by again tomorrow and help out some more?" he asks instead, a sour taste at the back of his mouth that has nothing to do with the lime in his drink. 

"That'd be really good of you," Brock says, sliding back into his seat and leaving Bucky to squirm where he stands. "If we don't get you so wasted tonight that you can't stand up tomorrow." It's said lightly, like he's joking, but Bucky sees Brock's hand slip into his pocket, knows he's fingering the bag of coke that's still there, and his stomach churns.

"Actually, Steve," he says, even louder this time. "I don't think my mom would appreciate me comin' home like this. Can I crash at your place?"

Steve knows it's pathetic how he instantly brightens at Bucky's request, and usually he'd be better at hiding it, but right now he's just a little past tipsy. "Yeah, sure - move over, Stark - I'm about done for the night, anyway, I'll come with you."

"Okay, thanks," Bucky says, all kinds of relieved. "I'll see you guys tomorrow, okay?"

Brock rolls his eyes. "Fine," he says. "Have a good night, girls."

Steve resists the urge to flip Brock off behind his back as he and Bucky leave the bar in search of a taxi. "You're not sleeping on the couch like this," he decides, once they're in one and on their way. 

"What do you mean?" Bucky asks, his eyes wide as his heart trips all over itself. Does Steve know?

"You're gonna roll yourself right off of it like this," Steve insists, oblivious to Bucky's inner turmoil. "You can sleep in my bed."

"And where will you sleep?" Bucky asks, nervous.

Steve shrugs. "I'll take the couch."

"Why?" Bucky asks, a little desperately. "What's changed?"

Steve sighs. "Because I don't feel right sleeping in the same bed as you," he mutters. "Not when you've got this - _thing_ with Brock going on."

Bucky hisses in a sharp breath, and is surprised when tears start pricking at his eyes. "Steve," he whispers. "I'm sorry. I wanted to tell you, but I-- I was scared. I am scared."

Steve can't look at Bucky, ashamed at the fact that he's apparently done something to make Bucky _scared_ of telling him about his relationship. "Why? You know I won't judge you, Buck - not for anything."

"You-- you're not mad?" Bucky asks.

"No, I'm not," Steve says honestly; it's Bucky's life, after all. He can date whoever he wants. "I don't care who you do whatever with, as long as you're safe."

"Safe," Bucky repeats, feeling oddly wrong-footed. What's safe about a drug addiction? "Okay."

Silence falls between them until they leave the cab, and Steve doesn't break it until they're in his apartment. "If you want," he offers tentatively, "I'll stay in the bed with you."

"You don't have to," Bucky says miserably. "I know you don't want to."

"No, you don't," Steve says, a bit sharper than intended. Then he blows out a breath. "Look, I - I don't particularly want to sleep on the couch. But if you - it might be better."

The breath Bucky lets out is shaky. He's suddenly a lot more sober than he was in the cab, and a lot more uncomfortable, too. "Maybe I should just go home."

"You said it yourself, your mom's not gonna take it well if you show up like this," Steve points out. "Let's just go to bed."

"If you're sure," Bucky says.

"I'm sure," Steve says, feeling more tired than he has in a long time. 

Because he's weak and just as tired, Bucky just sighs and follows Steve into the bedroom.

* * *

When Bucky wakes up his head is pounding and he's warm, almost too warm. They went to sleep on opposite sides of the bed, backs to each other and a gulf between them that felt bigger than the grand canyon, but at some point during the night they must have gravitated towards each other, because Bucky is currently wrapped up so tight in Steve's arms that he's finding it difficult to breathe. It's actually pretty great, and normally he wouldn't move for the world, but... "Steve? Steve, I have to pee."

Steve, not yet awake enough to remember the night before, grumbles and tightens his hold on Bucky. "Hold it," he mumbles. "Five more minutes."

"Steve, I swear to God," Bucky says, "if you don't let go of me right now I'm going to piss all over you."

Steve groans, shoving Bucky away hard enough to almost roll him off the bed. "Oh my god, fine, don't be disgusting, do you know how many beds I have to clean every fuckin' day?"

"It wasn't a threat," Bucky says as he dashes from the room. "It was a promise!"

Steve can't help but grin - until memories of the night before start filtering in. Then the grin shrinks before it disappears completely as he cringes inwardly. What the hell was he thinking last night? He was acting like a - like a jealous ex boyfriend, which is ridiculous, because he and Bucky have never dated. 

In the bathroom, Bucky is experiencing something very similar. How stupid could he get, exposing Steve to Brock like that and then admitting that he's back on the drugs? He doesn't even want to get started on what Steve's reaction could mean; clearly Steve doesn't want to be around him as much anymore, but he'd acted like the revelation hadn't been a surprise. Has he seen this coming the whole time? Has he just been waiting for Bucky to screw up again? Bucky shudders, swills some water around his mouth, and decides that it doesn't matter. He doesn't deserve Steve's friendship anyway.

He goes back into the bedroom and finds Steve sitting up in bed, looking a lot more awake than he was five minutes ago and vaguely uncomfortable. "Wild night, huh?" Bucky offers, but it falls a little flat. "Listen, uhh, I'm just gonna get out of your hair, okay?"

Steve glances at Bucky, then looks away. "That - yeah. I uh, I've got some stuff I need to take care of around here, so I should probably get started on those."

"Right," Bucky says. He snatches his jeans up from the floor and is quick to pull them on. "Thanks for letting me crash here last night. I guess I'll see you around?"

"Yeah," Steve says, mustering enough energy to give Bucky a quick smile. "I'll see you."

Bucky can't get out of there fast enough; he reaches the bar before he remembers Steve promising Brock he'd help out again today.

* * *

"So," Natasha says, tossing a kernel of popcorn at Steve's head. "How's Bucky's bar coming along? Opening night's not far now, is it?"

Steve glares at Natasha as he flicks the kernel off of his shoulder before retaliating with his own. "Yeah, it's not far," he mutters. "Not sure when, exactly. I think they ran into some issues with contractors."

The next kernel goes into Natasha's mouth. "Oh," she says. "He didn't mention it."

Steve shrugs. "It was a couple of weeks ago. He hasn't said anything about it since."

"You two still having your weekly date nights?" Natasha asks.

"We've been busy," Steve tries. 

"Busy," Natasha repeats. "With what?"

"Our work," Steve answers vaguely. 

"Okay," Natasha says. "Try again."

"I'm serious," Steve insists. "Work's been getting in the way." Because Steve has been taking extra shifts, but he isn't about to tell Natasha that. 

"Steve," Natasha says, frowning. "I'm not stupid. What's going on?"

Steve doesn't answer for a moment, but then, with a sigh, he admits, "Bucky and I... I don't know. It wasn't exactly a fight? But we haven't seen each other since."

Natasha sits forward, interested. "Now we're getting somewhere. What happened?"

"They had that problem with the contractors, and since it was my day off, I offered to help," Steve answers. "Afterwards, the four of us - me, Bucky, and his business partners - went to get drinks. And - and Bucky hooked up with one of them in the bathroom. Apparently they've had a thing going for years, and Bucky was _scared_ to tell me." His tone turns bitter at the end. 

"Huh," Natasha says. "That's weird. Did he say why? Who is this guy?"

Steve shakes his head. "The guy's name is Brock, but Bucky never said anything besides that he was scared to tell me about what was going on between them."

"His other partner is Tony Stark, right?" Natasha muses. "Maybe this Brock guy was into drugs, too; maybe he thought you'd think he was a bad influence."

Steve sighs. "Maybe. But - " Here, he hesitates, but then decides that he's held this in for too long. "But I didn't help matters, I don't think."

"What do you mean?"

Steve takes a deep breath. "I was jealous, and I - I didn't exactly hide it very well."

" _Jealous_ ," Natasha repeats, looking all kinds of smug. "This is a new development. Except, it isn't really new, is it?"

"You could act a little surprised," Steve complains. "But it's been there since high school, Miss Nosy."

Natasha laughs. "Sorry," she says, "it's just _so obvious_. But seriously, why don't you just tell him?"

"Namely because we're best friends, and he's never given any indication of thinking of me as anything more," Steve says bitterly. "Ever since undergrad, we've been drifting apart, and I only just got him back as a friend. I don't want to risk that."

"So then why are you pushing him away now?" Natasha asks. "Why haven't you spoken to him since your little fit of jealousy that night?"

Steve sighs. "Because Bucky ran out of here like I lit his ass on fire the next morning," he says glumly. "Not exactly encouraging, and he hasn't answered my texts."

Natasha sighs. "I'll talk to him," she says. "There's definitely something going on with him lately. Is he still seeing Sam?"

"Yeah," Steve says. "Obviously Sam can't tell me what they talk about, but he's still seeing Bucky."

"That's good," Natasha says. "I know he's doing a lot better now, but still. He shouldn't be on his own."

"No, he shouldn't," Steve agrees, guilt making his stomach roll. 

Natasha rolls her eyes. "That's not what I meant," she says. "But, maybe go see him? For the sake of this friendship you're both desperate for, if nothing else."

Steve worries his bottom lip for a few moments, but then nods. "All right. I'll drop by the bar, see if he's there tomorrow."

Natasha smiles. "Excellent idea. Keep me posted."

* * *

A week and several tense phonecalls with Natasha later, Bucky meets Steve in the foyer of the White House, barefoot and smiling, visibly relieved. "Hey," he says. "Security called me when you got to the gates. Long time no see."

"Yeah," Steve agrees, not offering the excuses he'd tried to give Natasha. "Sorry."

Bucky's expression softens. "You wanna go someplace and talk?"

Steve nods, hands in his pockets. "Yeah, that - that'd be good."

Bucky smiles. "Come on."

Steve follows Bucky through the halls, too stuck in his own head to realize where they're going until Bucky opens the door to his room. He blinks in surprise, but follows Bucky inside. "So," he says, as casually as he can make himself sound, "How much time have you been spending here? Or have you been at the bar more?"

"The bar, mostly," Bucky says. "There's plenty left to do, but we should be ready for opening night. You're-- you're coming, right?"

"I'm planning on it," Steve promises. 

Bucky grins. "That's great," he says. "I'm really excited; the place looks amazing, it's come a long way since you were last there."

Steve can't help but grin, too. "Oh yeah? You finally get that issue with your contractors figured out?"

"Finally," Bucky says. "It's looking smart. I think it's gonna do really well."

"I hope it does," Steve says with a smile. "Tony seems to have a knack for making good drink mixes."

"He is a genius," Bucky agrees, nodding. "So what have you been getting up to?"

"Work," Steve says honestly. Even if he has been using it to avoid Bucky, it’s basically all he's been doing since that disastrous outing. 

Bucky smiles. "Nat said you've been working hard," he says. "I'm sorry I've been kind of AWOL lately, I just... got the impression you didn't want me around."

Steve shakes his head. "It's not that," he says, searching for a way to explain what had been going on with him. He doesn't quite have it in him to say he's been jealous. "It's - well, I kinda got the impression that I'd done something to make you scared to talk to me. I uh, took it kind of hard." Understatement of the year. 

Bucky sighs. "I'm not scared to talk to you," he says. "I'm... scared of what you think of me. It's a mess, isn't it? God knows I've been trying to keep myself together, for Mom and Becca and _you_ , but..."

"Bucky," Steve interrupts, tone gentle, "I don't give a shit if you want to get seriously involved with a guy."

Bucky freezes, stares at Steve. "Um," he says eloquently. "What?"

"Look, I don't like Brock, but if he's who you're thinking of getting into a long-term relationship with, then as long as he makes you happy, I don't care."

 _Oh shit_. Suddenly a lot of things make sense. The truth rolls to the tip of Bucky's tongue; all it would take is a few words to set the record straight and maybe get the help he knows deep down that he needs - but Steve is looking at him so earnestly, and Bucky knows he can't. He can't put them all through that again. "Oh," he says, forcing a laugh. "Shit, no, Steve. Brock isn't _serious_ , not at all. I-- That's why I was so nervous, because most people don't think it's smart to get into something casual with a business partner."

"Oh," Steve says, blinking as he readjusts his perception of the situation. "Well, it might not be smart, but it's not affecting your business is it?"

"Not so far," Bucky says, and that much at least is true. "I just. You know I haven't made many good life choices lately. I didn't want to let you down."

Steve smiles. "You haven't," he promises. 

And that's kind of the problem. Bucky smiles. "Friends?"

"Always."

* * *

Bucky glances around the restaurant, grateful for the tablecloth that's hiding the way his leg is bouncing beneath it. He's been trying to get clean since he talked to Steve, the guilt just too much, but if there's any night that he needs a fix, it's this one. Across from him are his parents; beside him is his sister. Outside reporters eager to ask about his mother's campaign and his own mental health are still clamouring outside. Bucky takes a breath, wills his leg still, and smiles. "So," he says. "Opening night is next week. I think you guys are gonna love it."

"I'm looking forward to it," Becca says excitedly. 

"It... will be interesting to see what you've done with the place," is George's response. 

"You'll love it, Dad," Bucky enthuses. "I've got you guys VIP tickets, obviously, so you can get in there first with Steve and Sam and some of Stark's friends, and get first crack at the buffet _and_ the bar. We've got all your favourites."

George makes a non-committal noise. "Expecting a big crowd, then?"

"Well, we've got plenty of interest," Bucky says. "Like, more than enough. My name and Stark's are definitely helping, but a lot of it is earned, too."

"I'm sure it is, sweetheart," Winifred says. "You've all worked so hard."

Bucky beams. "Thanks, Mom."

"Yes, and you've got more hard work to come," George says, attention drawn by his tablet. "Oh - Winifred, did you schedule this?" He shows her the tablet screen, which has an event pulled up on the date that Bucky's bar is opening. 

"No," Winifred says, barely glancing at it. "Put that away, George, Bucky suggested we do this so that we can enjoy dinner like a normal family."

George rolls his eyes, but does as his wife says. "Yes, because we are the epitome of normal."

"Really, George," Winifred says. "If you have a problem with your schedule, you can call Pam after dinner."

George sighs. "No," he says, before glancing at Bucky. "I'm afraid I've been scheduled to attend a charity dinner the night your bar opens. An unavoidable engagement, I'm afraid." He doesn't sound terribly sorry. 

"Unavoidable?" Bucky asks, his mouth dry.

"George," Winifred says, "are you sure? You've had this in your diary for months; this is Bucky's big night."

"I am the chairman of this charity," George defends himself with. "This has been in the works for months, and the date was only recently confirmed."

"And what's more important?" Winifred asks. "This is your son."

"This is an event where my attendance is required and cannot be rescheduled," George counters. 

Bucky takes a breath. "Do you even want to go?" he demands.

"Of course he does!" Winifred insists.

"No," Bucky says. "If you really wanted to go to my opening night, you could wriggle out of whatever bullshit this is. So you don't want to go. Do you?"

"Honestly? I'd rather go support my charity."

"Right," Bucky says thickly, "okay then." His leg is still bouncing under the table, and suddenly he can't stand it anymore. He gets to his feet. "If you'll excuse me," he says, and stalks off to the men's room.

As soon as Bucky's out of earshot, there's a furious whispering argument that ends with George reluctantly following his son - but when he finds Bucky in the men's room, his back to the door and hunched over, his head far too close to the counter, any thoughts of apologizing go out the window. "What are you _doing?_ "

" _Fuck!_ " Bucky yelps, spinning around. He grips the sink behind him, shielding what's left on the counter with his body, but the white powder dusting his nose is all the evidence George needs. "Dad, I--"

" _Don't,_ " George says, voice coldly furious. "How can you - do you care _nothing_ for what this could do to this family, to _your_ family?"

"Of course I do," Bucky says, stricken. "Dad, I'm sorry. I-- I didn't mean to. Everything just got on top of me, and-- It's just this once, Dad, I swear."

"And how am I supposed to believe that?" George hisses. "If you've done it once, you've done it before! You've been _lying_ to us, to all of us, for months, haven't you?"

Bucky can't deny it; he can't say much of anything. His eyes are wet. "Dad. _Please._ "

George is unmoved; he shoots his son a dirty look. "The only reason I'm not going to tell anyone is because your sister believes you've turned over a new leaf and your mother is busy with her campaign. But if you do _anything_ to jeopardize that, I will not hesitate to expose you for the liar you are. Do I make myself clear?"

Bucky takes in a shuddering breath, and hangs his head. "Yes, sir."

"Good. Clean yourself up before you come back out," George orders with a disgusted look. "The last thing we need is some paparazzi photo of you in this state."

Bucky automatically scrubs at his nose, mortified. "I'm so sorry," he says. "No one'll know, I swear."

"They'd better not." With one last hard look, George exits the bathroom. 

* * *

It's opening night. It's opening night and Bucky is terrified. He hasn't touched the coke since his dad caught him, determined to keep his word, but he wants it now. There are people queueing out the door already, and they've only just let the VIP guests in. His mom and Becca are here, some of Stark's friends, and even a friend of Brock's who looks only vaguely sketchy - but Steve isn't here yet. Bucky has tried calling him, but there's been no answer; it's unlike Steve to just drop off the face of the earth, and it's really freaking him out.

"Relax!" Becca laughs, coming up to him with a little plate of nibbles. "He'll be here soon. This is your big night! Enjoy it!"

Bucky laughs and tries to take her advice - but it's not easy. His father's absence should be a relief after the cold shoulder he's been giving Bucky since that night, but it's keenly felt. It's clear that George doesn't believe in him; if Steve isn't coming, does that mean he feels the same?

* * *

Steve was on his way out the door to head for the bar when his phone rang - it wasn’t Bucky, like Steve thought, but rather Sharon. She hadn't called with good news: an accident in one of the busiest parts of town had caused a major pile up, and it was all hands on deck; one of the vehicles had been a grade school tour bus. Steve had been in such a rush to get to the hospital that he hadn't even thought to send Bucky a text, much less call him. 

Steve doesn't even have time to check his phone until several hours later, when everyone involved has been stabilized, operated on, or otherwise taken care of, and when he finally looks at it, he feels all of the blood drain from his face when he reads Sam's most recent text. 

**Bucky relapsed; on our way to ER.**

* * *

Back at the bar, several hours earlier, Bucky isn't faring any better. Becca and his mom left after they let the other guests in, and he's officially out of people to talk to. Don't get him wrong, opening night is a huge success; the bar is packed, the booze is flowing and they're raking the money in. Beautiful men _and_ women are throwing themselves at him in equal measure and with truly stunning enthusiasm, but he just-- he can't. He can't focus past the anxiety that's constricting his chest and clawing its way up his throat. Steve isn't coming. With each passing second it becomes more and more clear. _Steve isn't coming_ , and he didn't even have the decency to text and say why. He won't answer any of Bucky's calls - he didn't even answer Bucky's mom's call, and he _never_ ignores the President. Something's gone wrong, Bucky's sure of it; Steve's figured out the truth - any truth - and wants nothing to do with him now. God, this is awful.

Bucky's been sitting on a stool just behind the bar for the last hour; his knee has been bouncing for most of that time, but now his hands are shaking, too. He can't think, can't breathe. The drink beside him is doing nothing to soothe his nerves, just like the four at least that came before it did nothing, and all of a sudden, he snaps. He gets to his feet, abandons his glass on the bar, and forces his way through the crowd until he finds Brock. Brock, who is dancing with two boys and a girl, grinning like the cat who got all of the cream - but Bucky ignores all of this in favour of grabbing Brock's wrist and pulling him in close, hissing in his ear. "Tell me you've got something."

Brock raises an eyebrow. "Thought you didn't want that in the bar?" he asks, voice just as quiet, but before Bucky can respond, he nods towards the office. "My desk. Bottom left drawer, I've got a little left."

"A little?" Bucky asks, unimpressed.

Brock rolls his eyes. "More than a little. Just be careful, Barnes."

"I'll be fine," Bucky says, already turning away. "Just leave me alone."

Brock watches Bucky go, brow furrowed, but lets himself be drawn back into dancing with his previous partners nonetheless. 

* * *

The party is in full swing by the time Sam gets to the bar. He knows he's a little late - okay, more than a little - but he's armed with a good excuse and he's sure he'll be forgiven. He tried to call Steve a couple times on the way over, not wanting to disturb Bucky directly, but when he got no answer he assumed they were just enjoying themselves. Maybe even more so than he expected, because they're nowhere to be seen now. He finds someone who looks familiar and heads toward him, instead. "Hey, it's Brock, right? I'm Sam. You seen Steve or Bucky?"

Brock eyes the newcomer, then places him after a moment. "Steve never showed, Bucky couldn't get in touch with him, and now he's back in my office." He hesitates, then digs a key out of his pocket. "Look, he might have locked the door, but he wasn't in very good shape. You might need this."

Sam looks at the key in his hand. "What do you mean, he wasn't in good shape?" he asks sharply. "Why did you let him go off on his own?"

Brock gestures over his shoulder at the people he's been dancing with. "He had his panties in a twist over his blond bombshell not showing up, and I wasn't about to abandon my good time to watch him cry over his broken heart."

Sam doesn't even dignify that with a response. He turns and heads in the direction Brock indicated, and the gift from Brock comes in useful when he finds the office door locked. The door pops open with a twist of the key, and Sam is barely a step into the room before he's recoiling, crying out.

"Help! _Someone call 911!_ "

* * *

Steve's waiting in the ER when Bucky's brought in, and Steve can't help but be dragged back to that night all those months ago, when he'd been the one to find Bucky unconscious. Still, Steve does everything he can as the doctors take over, rushing to save Bucky's life. Eventually, however, there's nothing left for him to do, and he makes his way to a deserted hallway. Sam finds him there, head in his hands, shoulders shaking with the effort to keep from crying, and guides Steve back to the breakroom; he kicks out the other employees there, though none of them hold it against him when they see the state Steve's in. Sam pushes him onto the couch, grabbing one of the blankets folded over the back of it and draping it over Steve, threatening to find the chloroform if Steve doesn't go the fuck to sleep.

Steve doesn't particularly want to, but he also knows that he's been going too hard for almost too long, and that if he doesn't get any sleep, he won't be any use to Bucky. Eventually, he gives in and drifts off.

* * *

_The party is raging when Steve gets there, but even so, Bucky finds him immediately, flings an arm around his shoulders and presses a beer into his hand. "Stevie! Where've you been, pal? Missed you."_

_Steve grins, taking the beer, though he makes no move to drink from it yet. "Had a couple of last-minute chores to take care of," he says, just loud enough to be heard over the noise of the crowd. "You enjoying yourself?"_

_"So much," Bucky enthuses. "Hey, hey Stevie." His voice drops, and he pulls Steve even closer, giggles right into his ear. "Can you keep a secret?"_

_"Sure," Steve says, amused even as he feels heat creeping up the back of his neck from Bucky's proximity._

_"Joe--" Bucky giggles again. "Joe gave me some E. It's_ great _, Stevie, you have to try it."_

 _Steve blinks. "Some_ what? _" he demands in a hiss. "Where did he even get that?"_

_"I don't know," Bucky snorts. "I don't care! Come on, Stevie, it's just a bit of fun! It's harmless."_

_Steve hesitates, but then shrugs. "All right. You gonna show me around or what?"_

_"Sure, sure," Bucky says. He pulls Steve further into the apartment, gestures with the arm that isn't still around Steve's shoulders. "Living room, kitchen, bathroom. Joey! That's Joe, do you want me to ask him for something?"_

_Steve hesitates, then asks, "A bit of whatever you've had?"_

_Bucky grins. "You'll love it," he promises._

_Steve's not too sure of that, but he follows Bucky nonetheless._

_"Steve," Bucky sighs, half an hour later, as he slides his hand over Steve's thigh. "Steve, God. I feel amazing. Don't you feel amazing?"_

_"I don't know about amazing, but I feel pretty good," Steve says with a grin, looking at Bucky and doing his best to ignore the warmth of Bucky's hand on his leg._

_"Come on," Bucky laughs, taking Steve's hand with his free one and threading their fingers together. "Touch me. It feels_ so _good._

_Steve hesitates, but then tugs his hand from Bucky's - he needs the one behind him to balance, otherwise he's gonna fall and crack his head open - and then cautiously reaches out to lay a hand on Bucky's upper arm. "Like that?"_

_Bucky sighs and sits back, his eyes sliding shut. "Whatever you want, Stevie. Whatever feels good."_

_"You don't mean that," Steve murmurs, almost to himself; what he_ wants _to do is something Bucky probably wouldn't be too happy with._

_"What are you talkin' about?" Bucky laughs. "Just touch me, Stevie, Jesus. Go with it."_

_Steve bites his lip, but lets his hand wander up, fingers drifting over the curve of Bucky's shoulder. "This okay?"_

_"Fuck, yeah." Bucky's grin is lazy, and he tips his head back to laugh. "God, I am so hard right now."_

_Steve feels his cheeks flame. "Bucky," he complains. "Did you really have to announce that?"_

_"You can't play Mr High And Mighty now, Stevie," Bucky chuckles, his hand moving on Steve's thigh again. "You are, too."_

_Steve's face goes even redder. "Maybe, but I didn't go announcing it to the whole room!" he protests, even as he can't stop himself from leaning closer to Bucky. "Jeez, you're such a jerk sometimes."_

_Bucky grins, sways closer to Steve in return. "You love me, though."_

_Steve would roll his eyes if his attention wasn't currently captured by Bucky's lips; have they always been this red? "For some reason," he murmurs._

_Bucky's smile sharpens, turns hungry; he darts out his tongue to wet his lips and then flashes Steve his teeth. "See something you like, Stevie?"_

_When Steve looks up to meet Bucky's gaze, his own is challenging. "So what if I do, Barnes?"_

_Bucky lets go of Steve's hand to skim his own up Steve's chest, tightening them in his shirt just below his collar. "Then I think maybe you should get over here and take it."_

_Under any other circumstances, Steve wouldn't do what he knows he's about to - but with the drugs in his system and an invitation like that, he can't do anything but lunge forward to crash his mouth against Bucky's in a clumsy kiss._

_Bucky lets out a moan against Steve's mouth, a broken, desperate sound that he'll hate himself for making in the morning, and wraps his arms around Steve's neck, pulling him closer. "God," he laughs when they break apart. "Didn't know you had it in you, Stevie." And then his lips find their way back to Steve's and they're kissing again._

Me neither, _Steve thinks, but doesn't voice, because that would require him to stop kissing Bucky, which he very much does not want to do. Instead, he presses closer, lifting one hand to thread his fingers through Bucky's hair and tug, angling his head just so._

 _Bucky moans again, because kissing Steve is_ electric _, and inches the hand on Steve's thigh closer to his crotch - only to snatch it back when someone calls out, laughing._

_"Get a room!"_

_When he pulls away from Steve to look, Bucky sees that the guy who spoke has a girl's head in his lap, but he can't even bring himself to be mad; instead, he just laughs, and asks Steve, rather breathlessly, "You wanna?"_

_Steve barely has to think before answering, "Hell yeah."_

* * *

Steve wakes abruptly to a gentle but insistent hand shaking his shoulder, and Sam's voice in his ear. "Steve. Steve!"

Steve barely manages to catch himself with one hand on the back of the couch. "Jesus, all right, I'm awake," he curses, sitting up. 

"Easy," Sam soothes. "Listen. They think Bucky'll wake up soon but his mom and dad aren't here yet. Thought you'd wanna be there."

It takes Steve a moment to remember what happened the night before, and as soon as he does, he's flinging the blanket off of himself and pushing to his feet. "Where is he? Which room?" he demands. 

Sam tells him, but calls out to him before he can bolt from the room. "He's in a bad way, man. You might wanna brace yourself."

"As long as he's alive," Steve says tersely, and then he's off. 

Bucky doesn't quite look like shit, but it's a close thing; when Steve enters the room, he trips over his own feet, distracted by the sight of Bucky laying on the hospital bed again. He's pale, almost pale enough to blend into the sheets on the bed, and the doctors have hooked him up to just about every monitor they have. Steve drags a chair next to Bucky's bed and all but falls into it, reaching out to take Bucky's hand in his, mindful of the IV needles. He doesn't say anything, not yet; he's saving that for when Bucky wakes. 

That doesn't happen for another hour or so, and when it does, it's by degrees. Bucky's fingers twitch in Steve's hand, and then a soft moan spills from parted lips. It's a few moments more before he opens his eyes, and when he does they're unfocused, so he closes them again. "Ugh," he says, his voice rough. "Steve..."

"Oh thank god," Steve breathes. "You're all right, Bucky. You're okay now."

Bucky groans, frowns. "What-- what happened?"

Steve swallows heavily. "You overdosed again," he says quietly. 

Bucky groans again, and opens his eyes to gaze imploringly in Steve’s general direction. "I didn't mean to," he says. "Steve, I swear, I wasn't trying to hurt myself this time."

Steve's not sure whether to believe that, but he doesn't comment, instead asking, "Was it the first time since you were here last time?"

Bucky sighs, looks away. "No," he says thickly. "I'm so sorry, I-- I tried, but. I couldn't stop."

Steve nods. "Okay," he says quietly. "Why - you know we wouldn't have judged you, Buck. Why didn't you tell me, or Sam?"

"I tried," Bucky admits. "I'm sorry. I was scared."

Steve hesitates then, Bucky's words summoning an echo from weeks ago. "That's what you were scared to tell me about," he realizes. "Not that thing with Brock, but this."

"Yeah," Bucky says, shifting restlessly. "A different thing with Brock."

"A different - Bucky. Was he your _dealer?_ "

Bucky winces, sighs. "He said he wanted to go straight," he says. "And I did, too. I was even clean for a while. He said he wasn't going to have anything at the bar, but he did, and when everything started going wrong, I--" He cuts himself off. "Do we have to talk about this now?"

Steve sighs, gives Bucky's hand a gentle squeeze. "No, we don't," he says quietly, even as he firmly resolves to track Brock down to have a _conversation_ with him. 

"Steve," Bucky says, and he squeezes his eyes shut against the sting of tears. "I'm scared. I don't want to do this again."

"I know," Steve says quietly, reaching up with his free hand to cup Bucky's cheek. "But I'm here."

Bucky takes in a shuddering breath, turns his face into Steve's hand. "Please don't go," he whispers. "I'm so sorry, I wanted to tell you, I swear."

"I'm not going anywhere," Steve swears. 

Bucky sniffles, nods. After a moment, he asks, "Where's-- where's my mom?"

"I'm not sure," Steve admits. "I crashed shortly after you came in, didn't wake up until a little bit ago. Came straight here when I woke up."

"Someone told her though, right? She knows I'm here?"

"Yeah," Steve says quietly, his thumb sweeping over Bucky's cheek tenderly. "She knows."

Bucky sighs and closes his eyes again. "She's gonna be so mad at me," he breathes. "And my dad..."

"Hey, hey," Steve soothes, "I'm not going to let them yell at you. I'll be your own personal guard dog. And Sam will help, I know he will."

"Sam," Bucky whimpers, seemingly unaware of how he's still leaning into Steve's touch. "God, he must be so disappointed. You, too."

"We're not disappointed," Steve says firmly. "Not in the least."

"No," Bucky sighs. "No, my dad was right."

"Your dad is an asshole," Steve reassures Bucky. "He's rarely right."

Bucky yawns, rubs his face against Steve's palm. "Mm, I missed you. Feel like shit, though."

Steve smiles indulgently. "I missed you too. Go to sleep; I'll be here when you wake up."

"Mmkay," Bucky mumbles. "Love you." And then he's out like a light.

Steve's left blinking, mouth hanging open as he stares at Bucky's sleeping, snoring form. 

* * *

Steve and Sam alternate shifts watching over Bucky; most often it means that Sam is watching Bucky while he sleeps, because Steve's a selfish bastard and likes to hoard Bucky's waking moments to himself. Steve also takes his promise to be Bucky's guard dog seriously: George isn't allowed in Bucky's room while Bucky is awake, and never alone. Even his mother and sister can't see Bucky alone, though Steve lets them see him when he's awake. 

The media is absolutely not allowed in the hospital, and Steve does his best to shield Bucky from the worst of the gossip rags. He's agreed this time to actually go to rehab, so once the doctors clear him, Bucky moves. Steve can't go with him, but Sam can and does; he's able to visit Bucky more frequently than Steve is, though Steve makes sure to go over several times a week. Shortly after Bucky is admitted, his parents go back on the campaign trail. George doesn't say anything before he leaves, but the President does - she tells Bucky she loves him, and that she's going to have several very stern conversations with his father while they're gone. Becca stays behind in DC, both for her brother and her own work, and when Steve can't visit Bucky, she does. 

Steve does hunt down Brock one night at the bar however, and after listening to Tony's sincere apologies, Steve drags Brock into the back alley and lets him know in no uncertain terms that if Steve ever even suspects that Brock or anyone else is giving Bucky drugs, Steve's going to come for him. Brock tries to keep his tough front, but Steve knows he's rattled, especially after Steve emphasizes the fact that, as a nurse, he knows _quite_ a bit about pain, both curing and inflicting it. 

Eventually, Bucky is cleared to return to the White House, no longer needing to stay at the rehabilitation center twenty-four/seven, and Steve insists on being the one to pick him up. "Bit of deja vu, isn't it?" he asks with a grin as he helps carry Bucky's luggage to the trunk of the cab he'd hired. 

"Yeah," Bucky agrees with a small smile. He looks softer than he did when he went in, but that could be the simple sweats and long-sleeved tee he's wearing. "Never again though, yeah?"

"Never again," Steve agrees. "Come on, then."

Bucky is grateful for Steve's presence beside him in the back of the car, but as they draw closer to the gates, anxiety threatens to choke him. "So," he says lightly. "What kind of media shitstorm is going on out there?"

"Not as big as you'd think," Steve answers. "Someone 'leaked' your leaving date as next weekend."

"But they all know now, don't they?" Bucky asks. "About the drugs."

"Yeah," Steve says quietly. "There's was only so much we could keep quiet."

Bucky laughs, shakes his head. "My mom must love me right now."

Steve shrugs. "She does love you, and she's been handling the press well enough that this hasn't really affected her overall poll results."

Bucky sighs. "What about my dad?"

Steve snorts. "He got one interview in - not even that - before your mom yanked him from any press whatsoever. He's not allowed to talk about you at all."

"Why?" Bucky asks, bemused. "I know he's a dick, but why is Mom cracking down on him so hard?"

"Because he's being even more of a dick than usual," Steve answers. "I don't - it's really bad, the shit he tried to pull. And he tried to make it seem like your mom agreed with him, when she really doesn't."

Bucky smiles weakly. "Guess we'll see when I get home."

* * *

It's a quiet ride back to the White House, and Steve and Bucky hurry past the few reporters that are usually milling around, managing to get by before anyone really has time for anything more than a shocked exclamation. Once inside, the two of them head directly for Bucky's room, and only then does Steve let out a small sigh of relief. "Made it."

"Yeah," Bucky says, looking around. "I see someone went through my room again."

Steve groans. "Again? Did you ever even have anything in here?"

"Well, did they find anything?" Bucky asks.

"If they had, they probably would have told me, or more likely Sam," Steve says thoughtfully. 

Bucky sighs, presses himself into the doorframe. "Go in," he says. "There's a loose floorboard under the chest of drawers."

Steve gives Bucky a confused look, but does as instructed; the dresser is easily moved, and when Steve prises up the loose floorboard, he has to pause, trying to make himself process what he's seeing. "Bucky - is this - ?"

"My stash," Bucky says, sounding drained. "Or what's left of it. It's been there since before last time."

Steve looks up at Bucky, eyes wide. "Have - you've had this for that long?"

"Well, yeah," Bucky says, frowning. "Everything I've done, and this is what disappoints you?"

"No, I'm not disappointed," Steve hastens to say. "It's just - have you used this? Since the first time you were in the hospital?"

"Yeah," Bucky says, "a couple times. After I relapsed, though. I wasn't using it from the second I got back."

Steve nods. "Do you want to get rid of it?"

"That's why I told you where it is."

Steve nods, gathering up the few plastic baggies. "I'll take care of it later."

Bucky sighs, avoids Steve's gaze. "Thank you."

Steve's only gone for a few minutes before he returns, the baggies nowhere in sight. "So," he says, "What now?"

"Don't know," Bucky says. "You wanna comb over my room again?"

"Am I gonna find any more drugs?" Steve asks, not making a move or looking anywhere but Bucky. 

"No," Bucky says. "Do you trust me?"

"Yes," Steve says without any hesitation. 

Bucky laughs. "Okay," he says. "Then maybe you should go. I guess I have to face the music sometime."

Steve frowns, confused now. "Wait, what are you talking about?"

"I have to face my parents," Bucky says.

"You don't have to do it alone, though," Steve points out. 

Bucky shakes his head. "You don't have to do that."

Steve rolls his eyes. "I know I don't _have_ to, but I _want_ to."

"Are you sure?" Bucky asks. "You know I haven't even seen my dad since..."

"More reason for me to stay," Steve says. "Look, if you don't want me here, then I'll go - but I want to stay and support you, Bucky."

Bucky hesitates, but nods. "Okay," he says. "That'd be nice. Thanks."

Steve gives Bucky a grin. "Anytime," he promises. 

When they get downstairs a few minutes later, the first person they see is George, almost like he's waiting for them. "Hey," Bucky says, terse. "Where's Mom?"

"Finishing unpacking," George answers, equally tense. "How long have you been back?"

"About a half hour," Bucky says. "Mom did know what time I was being released."

George shrugs. "She got a phone call as soon as she walked in the door. And we assumed you would be hiding out in your room for a while longer." His gaze flicks to Steve, something suspicious and a little wary in his gaze.

Bucky glares. "Well, I'm not hiding anymore," he says.

"Obviously not," George snorts. "Nor would you be able to; you have noticed that you've become quite interesting to the press, I'm sure."

"So what?" Bucky asks. "Steve says it's not hurting Mom's campaign."

"If anything," Steve adds, ignoring the way George glares at him, "you're hurting her campaign. Polls have shown people like her, but they don't like you. Not exactly a surprise though, right?"

George sneers at Steve. "I am my wife's biggest supporter; _she_ is my priority. I don't care what people think of me."

"Well, I'm taking a leaf out of your book," Bucky says tiredly. "I don't care what you think of me anymore."

Steve reaches up to lay a reassuring hand on Bucky's shoulder, and George's expression twists into something hateful. "It took you long enough," he sneers. "Only two suicide attempts - did you ever tell anyone why you tried the first time?"

"This wasn't a suicide attempt," Bucky hisses. "This was an _accident_ , a relapse brought on by stress caused by _you_."

"Oh, by me? All it took was one person bailing and you couldn't get your hands on your drugs fast enough, could you?" George retorts. "What about before, hm? When you attempted suicide the night of your mother's announcement party?"

"What about it?" Bucky demands. "You know why I did that."

George nods toward Steve. "But does he?"

Bucky falters. "Dad."

"What? I thought this was honesty hour, _son._ Why don't you want Steve to know what really happened?"

"Because it's true!" Bucky snaps. " _I know_ it's true, okay? Is that what you want to hear? You were right! I'm pathetic and weak and a waste of space; I'm an embarrassment to the Barnes name and a burden on the people who care about me, and everyone would be better off without me. I _know!_ " He flings out an arm, points viciously at Steve. "But _he_ hasn't worked that out yet!"

Steve stares at Bucky in shock. "Bucky, you're - you're not _any_ of that," he protests. 

"No," a cold voice agrees, as Winifred walks into the room. "He isn't." She comes to a stop between her husband and her son, radiating fury. "George. Is this true? Did you say all those awful things to James?"

Caught, there's nothing George can do except stammer, "Winnie, I - "

"George," Winifred snaps again. "Did you or did you not tell James he would be better off dead?"

"I said if he was gone, I didn't say dead," George defends himself, but it's a weak defense and he clearly knows it. 

Winifred sighs. "Please take James back to his room, Steve," she says. "My husband and I need to have words."

Steve nods, laying a hand on Bucky's shoulder and giving him a gentle nudge towards the door. "Let's go," he murmurs, letting the hand on Bucky's shoulder fall down until he can take Bucky's hand in his. 

Bucky holds his breath until they get up to his room, and then he lets it go in one big gust. "Fuck," he says, his back to Steve. "You-- you can go. It's okay."

"Are you shitting me?" Steve demands. "There's is no way in hell I am leaving you alone after _that._ Christ, Bucky, you don't think that I'd agree with him, do you? Is that why you didn't tell me?"

"Well, like I said," Bucky says helplessly. "It's true."

"No, it's _not,_ " Steve says hotly. "You are not worthless, or a burden, and _none of us_ would be better off with you dead! Especially me - what the hell would I do without my best friend? I love you, Bucky, and if you died - "

"Don't," Bucky says, and his voice shakes. "Don't say that."

"Why not?" Steve challenges. He didn’t mean to, but it’s out now, and he isn't going to deny it. "It's true. I love you."

"No," Bucky says, "you don't. You can't."

"Why not?" Steve asks again, but more gently this time. 

"Because you can't!" Bucky cries, whirling around. "Have you seen me? I'm a mess, I'm _broken_ ; you can't _love_ me! Not even my own _father_ \--"

"He’s a piece of shit," Steve interrupts, tone firm. "He cares more about his reputation than any living person except for possibly himself. He doesn't count. Your mother and sister love you, Bucky. You have friends who care about you, and you have me."

"Yeah?" Bucky asks, a little desperately. "What's so special about you?"

Steve sighs. "Nothing," he admits. "But I'm here nonetheless. And I can tell you with absolute certainty your dad is wrong, because I've known you your whole life, and I've been in love with you since high school."

That brings Bucky up short. "Since high school?" he asks. His tone is soft now, but no less disbelieving. "Why didn't you tell me?"

Steve sighs. "Because I'd only just figured out I was bisexual, and I didn't want to risk fucking up my relationship with my best friend."

Bucky swallows this information with no small amount of discomfort, and nods. He's exhausted. "Okay," he says. "I can't deal with this right now."

Steve hesitates, but nods; pushing now would not be wise, he feels. "Okay," he says quietly, chest tight. 

Bucky gravitates towards his bed, sits down heavily on it, picks at the comforter. "My dad isn't to blame for what happened," he says. "I made that decision myself."

"Because you believed what he said," Steve says quietly. 

"I believed it long before he said it," Bucky says.

Steve has to swallow the lump in his throat before he can speak. "Maybe you believe it, but that doesn't mean anyone else does."

"Maybe," Bucky agrees. He hesitates. "Will you, uhh. Will you stay?"

"If you want me to," Steve answers with a smile. 

"I do," Bucky says. He pats the bed next to him. "I sleep better with you near."

Steve smiles softly, taking the invitation. He settles against the headboard, saying, "I don't know that I'll sleep, but I'll be here."

"You don't have to," Bucky sighs, rolling onto his side so that he can curl up against Steve, his face pressed into Steve's hip. "Just don't leave."

Steve's hand falls to Bucky's hair without thinking. "I'm not going anywhere," he promises. 

* * *

About an hour after Bucky falls asleep, there's a soft knock on the door before it cracks open. Winifred looks surprised to see them, but her smile is soft and warm when she meets Steve's gaze. "Is he okay?" she whispers.

"Not really," Steve answers, voice just as quiet. 

Winifred looks pained. "I had no idea," she murmurs. "Of course I don't think those things; James is--" She cuts herself off, smiles sheepishly. "I suppose he needs to hear this, too."

Steve nods. "He said - he said he believed the things George said before he ever said them," he murmurs, throat tight. 

Winifred just nods, but she looks devastated. "Let him sleep," she says. "When he wakes... tell him I love him. Steve. Tell him you love him."

"I already did, but he didn't believe me," Steve tells her. "He needs to hear it from you, I think. I'll let you know when he's awake."

"Thank you." Winifred goes to leave, but hesitates, turns back. "Tell him again, Steve. Over and over until he believes you. That boy loves you more than he knows what to do with. He needs you."

Steve flushes, but nods. "I will," he swears. 

Winifred's smile is pained but grateful. "Thank you," she says. "I'll see you later." She closes the door softly behind her, and then they're alone again.

* * *

Bucky sleeps for a few more hours, his head pillowed on Steve's hip. Eventually, however, Steve feels him start to stir, and he reaches down to tuck a stray lock of hair behind his ear. "Good nap?" he asks quietly once he's sure Bucky's awake enough to hear him. 

"Mmm," Bucky answers. "Yeah, I think so. How long was I asleep?"

"Almost four hours," Steve answers, glancing at the clock. 

"Shit," Bucky sighs, pulling away. "Sorry. You should have gone, or woken me."

"I said I'd stay, and you looked like you needed the sleep," Steve points out. 

"True," Bucky sighs. "So what now?"

"Your mom wants to talk to you," is Steve's answer. "She also told me to tell you she loves you."

"Oh," Bucky says, surprised. He sniffs. "Okay. Um, thanks."

Steve gives Bucky a gentle smile. "You're gonna be hearing that a lot in the near future," he guesses. "You haven't been told that people love you nearly enough."

"Well," Bucky says, a strange look in his eyes, "as long as they mean it."

"I can't speak for anyone else, but I know I and your mom and sister will definitely mean it, and Nat and Clint, too."

"Do you?" Bucky asks, eyeing Steve curiously. "Really?"

"Mean that I love you? Yeah," Steve answers without hesitation. "You're my best friend, Bucky. I love you for that if nothing else."

Bucky's gaze shutters. "Nothing else," he repeats. "But I thought--"

Steve barely keeps from smacking himself. "Bucky, I meant it in _both_ ways. You were my best friend before anything else, and I'll always love you like that. That doesn't mean I'm not also _in love_ with you."

"Oh," Bucky breathes. "Why-- You never told me you like guys. Not even after I came out."

Steve sighs. "I wanted to, but - there never seemed to be a good time, and it never seemed like a big deal? But like I said earlier, I was also scared that I'd - give myself away, somehow, and ruin things between us. I didn't even figure out that I was anything other than straight until junior year, and it was a while before I actually had a label that fit me."

"And what about now?" Bucky asks.

"I've nearly lost you twice in the span of a year," Steve says. "Ruining our relationship isn't the thing I'm scared of anymore."

Bucky winces. "I'm sorry," he says, for the millionth time. "I didn't mean to hurt you."

Steve shakes his head. "You don't need to apologize," he says. "I know. I'm not mad, I'm just - I wanted to tell you, ask you out or something, before I thought you and Brock - then after, but... I was still nervous. Thought you might turn me down."

"I might've," Bucky admits. "I haven't exactly been in the best place lately, and I was trying to protect you from that. But I don't think I can anymore."

"Well, I appreciate the sentiment," Steve says with a slight smile. "But I'd rather be by your side than let you face all that alone."

Bucky reaches out, lays a hand on Steve's knee. "Me too."

Steve rests his hand over Bucky's, giving the other man a smile. "So, don't keep me in the dark, please?"

"Never again," Bucky promises. "But it goes both ways."

Steve nods. "I won't keep anything from you unless I'm planning a good surprise," he says with a grin. 

Bucky smiles back. "So," he says. "Since we're being honest, there's something I still haven't told you."

"Yeah?" Steve says encouragingly. 

Bucky's fingers flex beneath Steve's, and he offers him a soft, almost tentative smile. "I'm in love with you."

Steve's answering grin is more than a little embarrassed. "I know," he says. "You uh, said it several weeks ago. While you were in the hospital, right before you fell asleep one time."

Bucky's eyes widen, and he blushes right to the tips of his ears. "Oh," he says. "Is that why you..?"

"It's only part of the reason why I finally decided to just tell you I love you," Steve answers. "I was going to tell you anyway, but that definitely helped ease some of my nerves."

Bucky rolls his eyes, his smile fond. "Pretty presumptuous of you, don't you think?" he teases. "I was sick and on medication. I don't even remember saying that."

Steve shrugs, grinning. "Maybe," he laughs. 

"Well luckily for you, I meant it," Bucky says, but the amusement in his eyes soon gives way to something more serious. "So what do we do now?"

"I'm not sure," Steve admits. "I know I want to be with you, but I also don't want to push things too fast, if that makes sense?"

"It does," Bucky says. "I-- I still don't know if I'm even worth this."

"I know you are," Steve says quietly, maneuvering Bucky's hand until he can thread their fingers together. "And I'll tell you that until you believe it, and then I'll keep saying it."

Bucky lets out a shaky breath, squeezes Steve's hand. "It's really bad, isn't it?" he asks. "What my mom heard?"

"She was pretty upset about it," Steve says. "I think she wants to talk to you."

Bucky grimaces. "Is she mad at me?"

Steve shakes his head. "She’s mad at your dad, but not at you. At most, she might be disappointed or upset that you never said anything to her or anyone, but she's not mad."

"I couldn't say anything," Bucky insists. "My mom was busy with the campaign, I didn't want to fuck things up for her. And I'd just got you back."

"She's your mom first and foremost," Steve points out. "And I wasn't going anywhere."

"Well I didn't know that," Bucky says. "I was scared."

"I know," Steve says. "But you don't have to be now."

Bucky sighs. "I guess not."

Steve gives Bucky's hand a squeeze. "Do you want me to stay when she gets here?" he offers. 

"Um, yeah," Bucky says. "Please."

"All right," Steve says with a smile. "I'll let her know you're up."

Bucky nods, his smile grateful. "Thanks."

* * *

Steve sends a text, and then he and Bucky wait in companionable silence as Bucky's mom heads over. When she knocks, Steve gives Bucky an encouraging look before he calls, "Come in."

Winifred cracks the door, offering Bucky a tentative smile as she enters. "Hey, Bucky. How are you feeling?"

"Like shit," Bucky says candidly. "How's Dad?"

Winifred sighs. "Off sulking somewhere, no doubt. I am truly sorry that he felt it was okay to say those things to you."

"You don't have anything to be sorry for," Bucky says. "You didn't say it, and besides, he wasn't that far off the mark."

"No, he was," Winifred disagrees. "You are none of what he claimed you were, James."

"Mom, I'm a drug addict. I almost killed myself _twice_. And now everyone knows about it!"

"I don't care," Winifred says immediately. "You are worth the press hassle, Bucky."

"Even if it costs you the election?"

"Even if," Winifred confirms. "You're my son, Bucky. Nothing takes precedence over that."

Bucky snorts. "Tell that to Dad."

"I have," Winifred assures Bucky. "I've made it very clear to George that I do not condone how he treated you or why."

"And what did he have to say about that?"

"He tried to insist that the career was just as important," Bucky's mother admits. 

Bucky sighs. "It's okay if it is, Mom. You've worked so hard for this."

" _Nothing_ is more important to me than my family," Winifred says firmly. 

Bucky sucks in a sharp breath, and when he blinks, his eyes are wet. "Mom..."

Winifred steps forward, her smile gentle as she says, "I love you, Bucky."

Bucky makes a strangled sound and goes to his mother, letting her wrap him up in her arms for the first time in he can't remember how long. "I love you, too."

Winifred hugs Bucky tightly, like she'll never get another chance to hold him again. "I'm going to tell you that a lot more often," she mumbles, not making a move to release Bucky yet. 

"Okay," Bucky whispers, because he can't quite bring himself to say _please_.

The two Barneses stay like that for several long, much-needed moments before they finally pull apart. Winifred's eyes are a bit red, but no one says anything. "So," she says, taking a deep breath to get herself back under control, "Steve. Did you do like I said?"

Steve flushes, but he's smiling. "I did," he confirms, glancing at Bucky. "Told him I love him, and he even said it back." 

"You guys talked about that?" Bucky asks, flushing.

"She stopped by while you were drooling on my hip," Steve informs him. "Told me to get my head out of my ass."

"A bit more delicately than that, but yes," Winifred laughs. 

"Oh," Bucky says. "Well, thanks, I guess."

"Of course. So have you two settled on a first date yet?"

"What?" Bucky asks, with a sheepish laugh. "Mom, we don't need to do that."

Bucky's mother actually puts her hands on her hips. "Oh, yes you do," she corrects her son. "Dates are very important bonding opportunities, especially for young couples."

Steve hesitates, biting his lip, and glances towards Bucky. "I would like to go on a few dates with you," he offers tentatively. 

"But we're--" Bucky glances at Steve. "We're not a couple."

Steve shrugs. "We could be," he says quietly. 

Bucky stares at him. "But _you_ said--"

"Just because I said I'm okay with taking it slow doesn't mean I don't want to be a couple with you," Steve replies. 

"But it's not that simple," Bucky says, an edge of desperation in his voice. "I'm not a blushing virgin - sorry, Mom - I'm a recovering addict. I've put you through hell!"

"Not intentionally, and I'm still in love with you," Steve points out, ignoring the way Winifred looks like she's considering making popcorn. "None of what you said automatically makes a relationship an impossibility."

"But it makes it impractical," Bucky says. "Doesn't it? I love you so much, but that isn't going to fix me. What if I relapse again? What if you can't trust me?"

"I know this isn't a fairytale, Bucky," Steve says patiently. "You might relapse, yeah, but you just promised me no more secrets. I trust you to keep that promise, Buck."

"I'm a mess, Steve," Bucky says. "I don't want you to get hurt."

"And I don't want you to be alone," Steve counters. 

Bucky sighs, looks at the floor. "I don't want to be alone, either."

Steve gets to his feet then, coming to stand in front of Bucky. "You don't have to be," he says quietly, reaching out to take Bucky's hand in his. 

Bucky smiles, and squeezes Steve's hands. "I love you."

Steve grins. "I love you, too."

"Great!" Winifred exclaims, clapping her hands together in delight and making the both of them jump. "Well, I'll leave you two to it then, shall I?"

"Sorry, Mom," Bucky laughs. "Um, yeah. We'll see you later?"

"Of course," Winifred agrees, pulling both Steve and Bucky into a hug. "Take care, you two; I love you, James."

Bucky very nearly grins. "Love you too, Mom."

* * *

Steve and Bucky spend the rest of the day in Bucky's room, mostly relaxing on Bucky's bed, curled up together and talking quietly. They take a break for dinner, which is brought to Bucky's room, but then they resume their previous position until a clock chimes somewhere down the hall. "It's getting late," Steve murmurs. "Already eight o'clock."

"Mm," Bucky agrees. "You working tomorrow?"

Steve shakes his head. "Got the day off," he murmurs. 

"Two days in a row," Bucky says, his mouth curving into a smile. "Someone's lucky."

"And has saved a lot of vacation days," Steve laughs. 

Bucky hums again, shuffles a little closer. "Stay tonight?" he asks.

Steve hesitates, searching Bucky's gaze. "You sure?"

"So sure," Bucky says. "Aren't you?"

"I am, I just - wasn't expecting you to invite me to stay the night so soon," Steve answers, cheeks going ruddy. 

Bucky laughs. "I'm not asking you for sex," he says. "I'm just asking you to stay close, hold me. But if you're not comfortable with that now..."

"No, I am," Steve protests. "I don't - I'm not ready for sex, not yet, but I didn't think that's why you were inviting me to stay, I swear. I meant it when I said I just wasn't expecting it."

"We've done it before," Bucky points out.

Steve sighs. "I know," he replies. "But I don't - I try not to expect anything from you, you know? Bit of a holdover, I guess, from thinking you only saw me as a friend."

"Well, I don't," Bucky says, grinning, as he takes a fistful of Steve's shirt and pulls him closer. "In fact, I can prove it to you if you want."

"Oh yeah?" Steve asks, slightly breathless. "How you gonna do that?"

Bucky takes a moment to gaze into Steve's eyes, his own expression tender. "I'm gonna kiss you," he murmurs, and then he does just that.

Steve makes a pleased noise, returning the kiss easily. It's soft, tender; something Steve could easily get lost in. Eventually, however, they both have to breathe, and they part with a soft sound. Steve's smiling as he says, "That was a pretty good first kiss."

"Oh," Bucky says, with a nervous little laugh. "That, uhh. That wasn't actually our first kiss."

Steve bites his lip, glances to the side, ears hot. "I was kinda hoping you'd forgotten about that," he muttered. 

"I thought you had," Bucky admits, feeling awkward. "You remember?"

Steve sighs, admitting, "Yeah, I do. But I don't really like thinking about that night."

Bucky grimaces. "I get it," he says. "I'm really sorry."

Steve shakes his head. "No, I am; I should've... We both took those drugs, Bucky. I always wondered if, well, if I could've stopped you. From taking them later."

"What?" Bucky shakes his head. "Stevie, no. I was already on the drugs by then. It was me who badgered you into taking that ecstasy, into lowering yourself to my level. I should have kept you away from all of that."

"I still could have done more," Steve insists. 

"I didn't want to be helped," Bucky says. "The second I did, you were right there. You've done so much for me, Steve. None of what's happened is your fault."

Steve shrugs. "Still feels like it's partly my fault," he says quietly. "Been feeling that way for years, but I didn't know how to even try to help."

"You're helping now," Bucky soothes. "You have helped. You've never not been there when I need you."

Steve gives Bucky a small smile. "I'm glad I'm helping you," he murmurs. "But I'm even more glad that you want to be helped."

"Trust me," Bucky says. "Me too."

* * *

A week later, Brock's in his office at the bar when his phone rings. He rolls his eyes when he sees the Caller ID, but picks up; he doesn't dare not. "Hey, boss; what can I help you with?"

Bucky hesitates in the doorway, lets the hand he'd had poised to knock drop to his side. He's only here to check on things, let Brock know he's ready to return to work and that things around the bar will have to change - and what better way to reinforce his point than to catch Brock in the act, talking to his supplier when he's supposed to be working? So Bucky keeps quiet, and waits.

Brock doesn't say anything for a moment, then, "Yeah. Yeah, no - he was wound up, I gave him access to my stash. _No,_ I didn't plan for him to overdose, Jesus. I'm not that stupid, boss. He looked like he was gonna break if someone looked at him wrong, I just wanted to get him to relax." There's quiet for another moment, and when Brock speaks again he sounds annoyed. " _Yes,_ I know you wanted to - I already told you all this, why are you - Oh for fuck's sake, Pierce, I am _not_ going to murder Bucky, through overdose or anything else! I ain't going down for that, especially not when I'm trying to not go down for the drugs, I don't give a shit what your poll results or whatever are saying."

Bucky's heard enough. He can hear Pierce's whiny, tinny voice saying _something_ through the phone, but he doesn't care to let him finish. He strides into the room and snatches the phone out of Brock's hand, barely pausing to hang up before he throws it across the room. "Are you _fucking_ serious?"

Brock looks like a deer caught in the headlights. "Bucky - I can explain - "

"Explain?" Bucky repeats, incredulous. "Oh, please. _Please_ explain. I can't wait to hear this."

"I - Look, he's not my supplier, but when he found out I was your dealer, he started paying me to keep an eye on you, maybe report back about what you were doing. But when you overdosed the first time, he started pushing for me to push _you_ but fuck that, I ain't a murderer - "

"Except that you almost were," Bucky snaps. "I almost _died_ because of you! And you're _still_ working for him?"

"No!" Brock protests. "Well, I'm trying not to, he's making it hard. He keeps calling and he's threatened to go to the police."

Bucky sucks in a harsh breath, tries to clear his head. "Then you need to go to the police," he says. "And the media and anyone else who will listen."

Brock snorts. "Oh yeah, and how many will believe what they hear?" he retorts. 

"You have to have proof," Bucky snaps. "We've known each other for years, Brock."

"Yeah and I've known him for less than two," Brock retorts. "I'm not a paranoid maniac, Bucky. I might have something but I don't record every goddamn conversation we have, you or him."

"Then start recording," Bucky hisses. "Get something, go to the police. Or I will."

Brock's trapped, and he knows it. "All right, fine, Jesus."

Bucky steps back, almost satisfied, but not quite. "I'm gonna talk to Stark," he says. "You're going to sell him your part of the bar. Whatever price he names, you take it. Okay?"

Brock grins his teeth, nods once sharply. "Fine."

Bucky smiles then, a cold, unnerving thing, and turns on his heel. "Pleasure doing business with you, asshole."

* * *

Steve gets a phone call several minutes later; he smiles when he sees it's Bucky, and picks up. "Hey, Buck. We still on for dinner tonight?"

"I-- sure," Bucky gasps. "Can you come pick me up? I'm-- the bar. I can't--"

"Okay," Steve says immediately, grabbing his keys and heading for the door. "All right, I'm on my way. Just stay on the phone with me, okay?"

"Steve," Bucky wheezes, as he slides down the wall to the ground. He's managed to get himself into the alley at the side of the bar, so that if Brock comes out he won't be easily spotted, but his face is still burning with humiliation as he struggles to get his breathing under control. "I'm scared."

"I know," Steve reassures Bucky. "I'm on my way, okay? I'm getting in the car now. I'll be there in ten minutes."

Bucky somehow manages to stay on the line for those ten minutes, but he checks out enough that he doesn't realise Steve is close until he's right in front of him, grasping his arms and saying his name. "Oh," Bucky sighs. "Oh, _fuck_ , Steve."

"I'm here," Steve says, pulling Bucky in close. "I'm here, I got you. You're safe."

"I'm not," Bucky insists, but he relaxes into Steve's arms all the same. "Please get me out of here."

"All right," Steve soothes. "Let's get up and in the car, okay?"

"Okay." Bucky stands with Steve's help and makes it over to the car. Luckily Brock is nowhere to be seen, and he sees only one passerby before Steve pulls back into traffic and starts heading in the direction of-- "Your place," Bucky breathes, relief coming off him in waves. "Thank you."

Steve nods. "I figured you'd want somewhere more private."

"Yeah," Bucky agrees, nodding. "That's perfect, you're perfect."

Steve smiles. "We'll be there in a minute; then you can tell me what happened, okay?"

Bucky sighs and lets his head hit the back of the seat. "Yeah, okay."

* * *

They reach Steve's apartment quickly, and once they're safe behind the locked door and curled up on the couch under a couple of blankets, Steve takes a deep breath and asks, "What happened?"

Bucky closes his eyes, but he knows he can't hide from this. "Brock," he says. "I went by the bar to talk about going back to work, and I overheard him on the phone. To Alexander Pierce. He's been working for him."

Steve stills, mouth hanging open. "He's been _what?_ "

"Pierce has been paying Brock," Bucky says, "to keep me on the drugs. Maybe to make sure I overdosed, I don't know."

Steve swears under his breath. "I knew I didn't like that asshole."

Bucky scrubs a hand over his face, suddenly exhausted. "I told him to go to the police," he says. "Told him to sell his part of the bar to Stark at whatever price he wants. I don't ever want to see him again."

"I don't blame you," Steve murmurs, his arm tightening around Bucky's shoulders. "If he knows what's good for him, he'll do it as fast as he can."

Bucky lets his head drop onto Steve's shoulder. "I'm sorry I freaked out. I know he's a drug dealer, but I-- I fuckin' trusted him, y'know?"

"You don't have anything to be sorry for," Steve reassures Bucky, rubbing his hand up and down Bucky's arm comfortingly. 

"I'm just glad I managed to keep my shit together long enough to get out of there," Bucky says. "I think I even scared him a little, which isn't ideal, I know, but I was just _so mad_."

"He deserved it and more," Steve says firmly. 

"Do you think I did the right thing?"

"Yes," Steve answers without hesitation. "He lied, even if only by omission, and basically sold you out."

"Okay," Bucky says. He takes a deep breath and then lets it out again. "Okay. Thanks."

Steve smiles, presses a kiss to Bucky's hair. "You're welcome."

* * *

They don't keep their dinner date. Bucky stays the night, and after several hours tossing and turning falls into a fitful sleep. Steve getting out of bed in the morning doesn't disturb him, nor does his phone going off around noon; Steve takes it from the room just to be safe, and when he sees that it's Stark, he answers.

"Barnes!" Stark says cheerfully before Steve can even get a word out. "How's the hangover, buddy? Hope you didn't get too shitfaced last night; you know what us addicts are like."

"This isn't Bucky," Steve says, a little amused despite himself. "It's Steve. What did you need, Stark?"

"Oh. Hey Steve." Stark sighs. "That's some bullshit with Rumlow, huh? I take it Bucky told you?"

"Yeah," Steve mutters, scowling at the memory. "He told me."

"Well, tell him from me that if I ever see that piece of shit again, I'm gonna shove my foot up his ass. He agreed to sell me his share of the business; my lawyer should have it all wrapped up by the end of the day."

"Thank fuck," Steve sighs. "I'll let Bucky know; thanks Tony."

"You're welcome," Stark says. "Tell him that we don't need the jackass; we can make this place work, _drug free_ , on our own."

Steve smiles. "I will," he promises. 

"Awesome," Stark says. "You look after him." And then he hangs up.

Bucky is just beginning to stir when Steve returns to the bedroom, and he offers Steve a sleepy smile. "Hey."

"Hey," Steve says, a fond smile tugging at his lips. "How you feeling?”

"Um," Bucky says. "Better." His smile brightens a little and he beckons for Steve to join him. "Is that my phone?"

"Yeah," Steve answers, handing it over. "Tony called. Said Brock agreed to sell."

"Wow," Bucky says, impressed. "I hope he gave him like a dollar."

Steve shrugs. "I didn't ask," he says. "Brock sold, and that's good enough for me. He also said to tell you that you two can make this work without him."

Bucky sighs. "I hope so," he says.

"I think you can," Steve reassures Bucky, wrapping his arms around his boyfriend. "I'll help as much as I can, and you can always hire an extra employee. The bar's popular enough that it'll cover the wages."

"That's true," Bucky agrees, smiling. "Especially now that we don't have to give Brock a cut. Christ, I can't believe I was so _stupid_."

Steve rubs Bucky's back comfortingly. "Well, it's over now," he murmurs. 

"Except that it's not," Bucky sighs. "Should I tell my mom, or should I wait until Brock goes to the police?"

"You should probably tell your mom; she'll need to be prepared for when the news hits the press," Steve points out a bit reluctantly. 

Bucky pulls a face. "I hate it when you're right."

Steve can't help but smile. "Well, you can just call her so you don't have to leave the bed," he offers. 

"What, now?"

"Why not? The sooner the better. You'll get it over with and she'll have more time to prepare."

"Ugh," Bucky sighs, pulling up his mom's number on his phone. "Okay." He hits dial before he can stop himself.

The line connects after a few rings. "Bucky? Is everything all right? You don't usually call me this early."

"There's something I need to tell you," Bucky says, reaching for Steve with his free hand. "Is now a good time? Are you alone?"

"Hang on." There's a few muffled sounds, then the click of a door being shut. When Winifred speaks again, she's more concerned than before. "I'm alone. James, what's going on?"

"Brock Rumlow was my drug dealer," Bucky says. "And he's been working for Pierce."

There's a sharp intake of breath on the other end of the line. "You're absolutely certain?" Winifred demands. 

"I overheard them on the phone," Bucky says. "I don't know the details, but I heard Rumlow telling Pierce he draws the line at murder."

"That mother _fucker,_ " Winifred swears. "Do you have concrete evidence, something that can't be denied or explained away in court?"

"I've told him that he needs to get something and take it to the police," Bucky says. "I'm pretty sure that he just sold his share in the bar to Stark for like five dollars, so he should be good for it."

"Good. If he doesn't, then we'll figure something else out." Winifred sighs, then, a crackle of static over the line. "I assume you're with Steve?"

"Yeah," Bucky says, glancing at Steve with a tender smile. "I, uhh, I had a bit of a wobble, but he's got me."

"Good. Stay there as long as you need, sweetheart; I'll handle things over here. I love you."

"Thanks," Bucky says. "I love you, too. Bye, Mom." He hangs up, and puts his head in his hands. "Fuck."

Steve pulls Bucky close. "Tough conversation?" he guesses. "It's over now, though."

Bucky sighs, melts against Steve. "It's just another way that I've failed her."

"You haven't failed her," Steve insists quietly; he can already tell this is going to be an argument they'll have many times. "You haven't failed anyone, Bucky."

"Doesn't feel that way," Bucky says. "I'm just one big fuck-up."

"You might have fucked up, that doesn't mean _you_ are one," Steve says firmly. 

"Maybe," Bucky says, but it's clear he's not convinced. "Please tell me we don't have to move today."

"Not for anything but bathroom and food," Steve promises; he's already texted Sharon and asked her to cover his shift tonight. 

Bucky makes a pleased sound and snuggles closer. "God, I love you," he sighs.

Steve smiles. "I love you, too."

* * *

Brock makes good on his promise; two days later, the news hits the media when the local police hold a press conference to announce that an official investigation in Alexander Pierce's connection to local drug dealers is being launched. Steve sticks as close to Bucky as he can, and luckily they aren't bothered too much by random reporters; they're more focused on Bucky's mother and father and campaign people. Or at least, they are until somehow the news leaks that Bucky used to get his drugs from the same dealer who first brought the case to the police.

Now, Steve grits his teeth as he eyeballs the people crowding his car, shouting questions he can barely hear through the glass. "Should we maybe ask Sam or Clint to pick up our groceries instead?" he asks doubtfully. Bucky had been staying with him for the past several days because it had been less stressful, but it looks like maybe that grace period is up.

"You can go back," Bucky says, his face grim. "I can't hide from them forever."

"I'm not letting you go in alone," Steve says stubbornly. 

"You don't need to deal with this," Bucky points out. "They don't know you're involved."

"They'll find out eventually," Steve counters. "I'm not going to hide what we are, Bucky. It might as well be on our terms."

"And our terms say right now, in the middle of this mob?"

"Maybe not," Steve allows. "But I still want to be by your side. It's not a secret that we're friends, Bucky."

"Fine," Bucky says, smiling. "Then let's go."

Steve smiles, cutting the engine. "All right, let's go."

* * *

A week later finds Steve and Bucky up in Bucky's room in the White House, putting the finishing touches on their outfits. Tonight's the official party to celebrate Winifred's victory in the primaries - and the fact that Pierce is most definitely going to court, and will most likely lose. Personally, Steve's hoping for death row - but he's more than a little biased. He finishes fussing with Bucky's tie, and then smiles, nods to himself. "There. A perfect eldredge knot."

"I don't even know what that means," Bucky laughs, batting Steve's hands away. "You look amazing."

Steve laughs. "Thanks," he grins. "You look great, too."

Bucky's smile softens, and he slips his hands into Steve's. "You ready for this?"

"Yeah," Steve answers, giving Bucky's hand a squeeze. "I'm ready. You?"

"Yeah," Bucky says, drawing Steve into a kiss. "I think so."

Steve smiles into the kiss, holding Bucky close for a moment before he pulls back. "Shall we head down?"

"May as well," Bucky says. "It's gonna be okay, isn't it?"

Steve smiles, ducks in for another kiss. "Yeah. It'll be okay."

Bucky grins. "Then let's do it."

* * *

Steve and Bucky arrive to the ballroom where the party is being held hand-in-hand, and there's barely a moment before cameras are going off, but thankfully the journalists in attendance are polite enough to wait until Steve and Bucky have settled themselves at their table before asking any questions. The rest of the party goes smoothly, once the journalists have gotten their answers, and aside from some odd looks, nobody says or does anything for the rest of the night, not even when Steve pulls Bucky onto the dance floor for one round. After that, they make their excuses, each giving Winifred a crushing hug that she returns - George is nowhere to be seen, but Steve doesn't let any thoughts of that cockroach linger; this has been a near-perfect night so far, and Steve won't let anything ruin it.

When he and Bucky leave the ballroom, heading up the stairs to Bucky's room, Steve moves closer, his fingers tangling with Bucky's as he leans over to drop a soft kiss to Bucky's cheek. "Good night?"

"Great night," Bucky says, grinning. "Everyone was so supportive."

"Yeah," Steve agrees, smiling. "Was nice to see the press behaving for once."

"Hopefully they'll write nice articles about me for once," Bucky laughs.

Steve hums in agreement, his thumb swiping over the back of Bucky's hand. "Be nice for a change."

"Still," Bucky says, "it was a lot of attention." He smirks. "I only wanted to take drugs like twice though."

Steve gives him a flat look. "That's not funny."

"Sorry," Bucky says, and he means it, but he's still smiling when he lets them into his bedroom. "I'm okay, honestly."

"Good," Steve says. "Maybe someday I'll be able to joke about that, but it's still too fresh for right now."

"I'm sorry," Bucky says again, sounding more sincere this time as he pulls Steve down onto the bed. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean it. I won't do it again."

Steve gives Bucky a small smile. "Thanks," he says quietly, shifting until he's pressed up close to Bucky. "I love you, you know that?"

"I do," Bucky murmurs. "I love you, too."

"Good," Steve sighs, leaning in for a kiss. "Now, let's get out of these penguin suits and go to bed, okay? I don't know about you, but these parties are exhausting."

Bucky laughs. "Yes please," he says, his gaze hungry. "I've been waiting to get you out of that tux all night."

Steve smirks. "Then get over here."

Bucky doesn't need to be told twice.


End file.
